The Life of the Rev. George Whitefield, Volume 1 (of 2)

by L. Tyerman

1737.

Whitefield wished and expected to embark for Georgia without delay; but, by a series of unforeseen occurrences, he was detained in England during the whole of the year 1737. In some respects this was the most important period of his life. He had transferred the care of the prisoners at Oxford to Dean Kinchin. James Hervey had succeeded him in the curacy at Dummer. He had no parochial charge, and probably he wished for none. At the early age of twenty-two, he was an episcopally ordained evangelist, ready and eager to preach whenever and wherever an opportunity of doing so was presented. The year was spent in a continued succession of public services, which literally startled the nation. He was a new phenomenon in the Church of England. All eyes were fixed upon him. His popularity in Bristol, London, and other places was enormous. His preaching became the subject of public remark; his name, hitherto almost entirely unknown, became a household word. Thousands and tens of thousands were making enquiries concerning him. His position was perilous. Popular favour might have ruined him; but the grace of God preserved him. This year's evangelistic labours in England gave a bias to the whole of his future life. Never afterwards did he desire church preferment. As an ordained clergyman, the whole of his subsequent career was irregular. He was a gospel rover. No power on earth could confine him to a single parish or a single church. He prepared the way for Methodist itinerancy. His marvellous preaching brought Methodism into a notoriety far greater than it had hitherto attained. Though Wesley, in learning and in mental acquirements generally, was much superior to young Whitefield, and though he was his equal in self-denying and laborious piety, it may be fairly doubted whether Wesley's preaching in 1739 would have attracted the attention which it did, if Whitefield had not preceded him in 1737. Whitefield's appearance, voice, elocution, and pulpit eloquence, drew around him thousands who, in the first instance, cared but little about his doctrines. They came to see and hear the orator; they returned more impressed with what he said, than how he said it. The doctrines of the man soon excited as much attention as the man himself; and when, in the two years following, his more sober-minded friends, the Wesley brothers, came preaching the same great truths, the people—friends and foes—were as eager to hear them as they previously had been to hear him.

That England needed such a ministry as that of Whitefield and the Wesleys, no one doubts. It would be the height of bigoted absurdity to say or to imagine that, when they commenced their marvellous career, England had no converted ministers except themselves.[81] The episcopal charges, the sermons, and other publications of the period, afford ample proof that, in the pulpits of the Church of England especially, there were a considerable number of not only able and learned, but thoroughly earnest and godly men. The reader must not forget that, at this very time, the see of London was filled by a man (Edmund Gibson), who, in a conscientious discharge of duty, had offended George the Second, not only by inveighing from the pulpit against masquerades, to which that monarch was much attached, but by procuring the signatures of several bishops to an address to the throne, "praying for the entire abolition of such pernicious diversions." It is true, that this selfsame bishop, in 1739, warned the people of his diocese against the enthusiasm of the Methodists; and, at a later period, published a pamphlet, in which he animadverted somewhat strongly on "the conduct and behaviour" of the members of this rising sect; but there is nothing, in either of the publications just mentioned, contrary to the fact that Dr. Gibson was an able, earnest, godly man. Besides Gibson, there was Sherlock, successively bishop of Bangor, Salisbury, and London, a man of great ability, whose sermons contain fine specimens of pulpit eloquence, and who was even more eminent for his piety than his learning. There was the celebrated Dr. Waterland, than whom orthodoxy never had a more valiant defender, a man of immense learning, who was once offered a bishopric, but modestly declined it. There was Bishop Butler, who, while rector of Stanhope, in 1736, published his great work, "The Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." There was Archbishop Secker, the intimate friend of Bishop Butler, and who, for nearly three years, under an assumed name, carried on with Wesley a friendly correspondence on some of the most vital truths of the Christian religion. There was the well-known Dr. Jortin, an able and voluminous author, and a sincere and devout Christian. Many others might be mentioned, all learned and deeply pious, though, perhaps, not preaching with clearness the characteristic doctrines of the Methodists. Ever since the days of Dr. Horneck and Bishop Beveridge, there had been in the pulpits of the Established Church a considerable number of earnest preachers, resembling in spirit, fidelity, and sentiment, the men who, in 1677, had been the means of instituting the Religious, or, as they might be termed, the Pre-Methodist Societies, which had existed and multiplied, in various parts of the kingdom, during the last sixty years.

The Dissenters, also, were not without talented and useful ministers. At the very time, when Whitefield commenced his illustrious career, Dr. Isaac Watts was still rendering important service to the Church of Christ; Dr. Philip Doddridge was at the height of his Christian usefulness; Dr. Nathaniel Lardner, the learned author of the "Credibility of the Gospel History," was preaching at Crutched Friars; Dr. Samuel Chandler, another able writer, was lecturer at the Old Jewry Chapel; Daniel Neal, the historian of the Puritans, was pastor of a congregation in Jewin Street; and Dr. John Gill, the ultra-Calvinist, was now minister at Horsley Down, and writing his ponderous commentary on the sacred Scriptures.

All these were pious, able, useful men. Their service to the cause of Christ was great. Their names and memories can never perish. But, notwithstanding all that has just been said, and all that might be added, there cannot be doubt that England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland,—the Established Church, the Presbyterians, and the Dissenters,—all greatly needed a ministry like that of Whitefield and his friends, the Oxford Methodists. Speaking generally, to the churches of the land might have been appropriately applied the language once addressed to the church in Sardis: "I know thy works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead." The country was filled with abounding wickedness, in its most flagrant forms; and Christian men were at their wits' end how to stem the disastrous deluge. The secular press of the period—newspapers and magazines—contain abundant evidence of this. Extracts and summaries, to this effect, have already been published in "The Life and Times of Wesley," and it would be wearisome to repeat them here; but there is another class of evidence which, without any repetition, may be fitly introduced.

Almost from the beginning of his career, Whitefield was practically a Dissenter; and there can hardly be a doubt, that, directly and indirectly, he was immensely useful in reviving the religious life of Dissenting churches. What was their condition when he commenced his ministry? Dr. Watts was now sixty-three years of age. He had long been the sweet singer of, at least, one branch of the Dissenting community, and, for forty years, had been pastor of a congregation in Mark Lane, London, occupying, as their successor, the pulpit of the Rev. Joseph Caryl, Dr. John Owen, the Rev. David Clarkson, and Dr. Isaac Chauncey. No man was better qualified to form a correct estimate of the religious state of the Dissenters generally than himself. What is his testimony on this grave and momentous subject? In the year 1731, he published his "Humble Attempt towards the Revival of Practical Religion among Christians, by a Serious Address to Ministers and People." The following remarkable extracts are taken from that publication:—

"Is this a day when we should leave the peculiar articles of the religion of Christ out of our ministrations, when the truth of them is boldly called in question and denied by such multitudes who dwell among us? Is this a proper time for us to forget the name of Christ in our public labours, when the witty talents and reasonings of men join together, and labour hard to cast out His sacred name with contempt and scorn? Is it so seasonable a practice in this age to neglect these evangelic themes, and to preach up virtue, without the special principles and motives with which Christ has furnished us, when there are such numbers amongst us who are fond of heathenism, who are endeavouring to introduce it again into a Christian country, and to spread the poison of infidelity through a nation called by His name? If this be our practice, our hearers will begin to think that infidels may have some reason on their side, and that the glorious doctrines of the gospel of Christ are not so necessary as our fathers thought them. Will this be our glory, to imitate the heathen philosophers, and to drop the gospel of the Son of God? to be complimented by unbelievers as men of superior sense and as deep reasoners, while we abandon the faith of Jesus, and starve the souls of our hearers by neglecting to distribute to them this bread of life which came down from heaven?" (p. 20.)

"The world has been so long imposed upon by shameful additions of men to the gospel of Christ, that they seem now to be resolved to bear them no longer. Because so many irrational notions and follies have been mixed up with the Christian scheme, it is now a modish humour of the age to renounce almost everything that reason doth not discover, and to reduce Christianity itself to little more than the light of nature and the dictates of reason. Under this sort of influence, there are some who are believers of the Bible and of the Divine mission of Christ, and who dare not renounce the gospel itself; and yet they interpret some of the peculiar and express doctrines of it, into so poor, so narrow, and so jejune a meaning, that they suffer but little to remain, beyond the articles of natural religion" (p. 25).

The two foregoing extracts were addressed to ministers, and are lamentably appropriate at the present day. The following were addressed to the people; and, though mostly put in the form of queries, they are so put as to be equivalent to plain and positive assertions:—

"The persons whom I would, at this time, compare together, are the common professors of religion in the Church of England, and the common professors among Dissenters, the bulk of the people both on the one side and on the other; and I would fain excite you, who call yourselves Protestant Dissenters, to bethink yourselves concerning the sensible decay of real goodness that is found amongst you, in order to awaken you to the warmest zeal and utmost endeavours to revive languishing and dying religion" (p. 56).

"O let it never be said by those who differ from us, and especially by those who hate us, 'These are the persons who profess purity in worship, but see how vicious they live! They are as much given to luxury in diet, to extravagance and vanity in dress, to everything that is sensual and voluptuous, or gay and vain, as any of us who do not make such pretences to religion; they are as loose, as frothy, as unsavoury, in their discourse, as any of their neighbours; they have no more inclination, or at least no more courage, to speak one word for God and religion than we have; they are as ready to over-reach those who deal with them, and to cheat and defraud in matters of trade, as any amongst us'" (p. 79).

"Shall I address myself with freedom to the parents and governors of families? Are you as solicitous to keep up the seasons of worship in your households as your fathers were? Are there not too many among you, who scarce ever call upon God in their families at all, unless it be perhaps on a Lord's-day evening? Have you learned to change the course of nature, to turn night into day, and day into night? Can the seasons of family worship be well maintained, or can the master perform it with a clear head and a pious heart, if he indulges his amusements in public drinking-houses till the hour of midnight approaches?" (p. 87.)

"Is not bankruptcy reckoned too small a crime amongst the Dissenters, as well as amongst their neighbours? and that where there can be found no other reason for it, but that they have lived too fast; they have affected the luxuries of life in their dress and furniture, food, equipage, and attendance, and would vie with their neighbours in splendour, grandeur, and expense, where the circumstances of their estate or trade have not been able to afford it? Or, perhaps they have frequented taverns early and late; they have habituated themselves to a morning whet, to prepare for some luxurious dish at noon; they have indulged their pleasures, and neglected their shop. Or, it may be they have sought to grow rich at once by plunging into trade and debt beyond all proportion of their estate, or possibility of payment, if they should meet with any disappointing accident. They have too often assumed the character of the wicked, who borrows when he knows not how to pay again. They have supplied their shops with goods, their tables with costly provisions, their houses with rich furniture, and their families with shining apparel, out of the purses of their credulous neighbours. A man who should have been found in the practice of half these vices would never have been called a Dissenter in the days of our fathers; and it is a heavy shame, and an in supportable disgrace, that there should be any such characters in our day that should wear the name of a Nonconformist" (p. 89).

"I proceed to the sixth and last thing wherein the Protestant Dissenters were wont eminently to distinguish themselves, and that is in their abstaining from those gayer vanities and dangerous diversions of their age, which border so near vice and irreligion, that sometimes it is pretty hard to separate them. Such are many of our midnight assemblies, midnight balls, lewd and profane comedies, masquerades, public gaming tables, and deep play. In this respect, shall I put the question, 'What do you more than others?' It was a constant and known mark of a Protestant Dissenter in former days, to refuse attendance upon any of these kinds of diversions. I hope we have not utterly lost this piece of Puritanism amongst us. I am bold to say, that if our fathers were in any degree too rigid and austere in pronouncing these things absolutely sinful, and in their utter prohibition of themselves and their households from ever once attending upon them; it is certain that we their children are much more criminal in giving too great a loose to many of these diversions. Can you not name the Dissenters who waste that time at a play-house, or a vain assembly of merriment, at a public gaming table, or a dancing room,—that time, I say, which belongs to God or their families? who spend those seasons in late visits and private balls, or at cards, whereby evening devotion is utterly excluded? who can wear out whole hours in these foolish and perilous recreations, and complain they have no time for prayer? Can you point to no persons, who are members of Dissenting churches, who entice their acquaintance to these vanities? Do you know no mothers who lead their little daughters thither, nor fathers who permit their sons to go without control? And do they know, or will they not believe, that the road to lewdness and impiety, to ruin and beggary, lies through these scenes of dangerous diversion?

"To sum up all in general, your fathers had an honourable character, and a very great reputation, even among the looser parts of the nation, for strict virtue, for exemplary and sincere godliness, beyond the common multitude of those who called themselves the Established Church; for if any person appeared to be strictly religious, and fearful of indulging any sin,—if he was scrupulous of any doubtful practice, or attempted to give an admonition to the sons of vice, he was presently called a Puritan, or a Fanatic, or Presbyterian, by way of reproach. This honour was a frequent tribute paid by the ungodly world to the superior virtue and merit of your ancestors and their profession of nonconformity. What is become of this your reputation? Have you lost your good name? Have you sold your glory for the indulgence of the follies and vanities of life? Have you fallen into such a neglect of strict religion as leaves no other distinction between you and your neighbours, besides your worship once a week in a different place and manner? It is time, my friends, when religion is sunk into such a universal decay in the nation, to enquire whether we have not suffered it to decay amongst us also, and whether we are not sharers in the common degeneracy. If the bulk of the nation be gone far in the neglect of virtue and godliness, let us not dare to follow the multitude, and make our profession of separation an empty name, and our pretence to purer worship a mere badge of hypocrisy" (p. 91).

Such was the significant language of the most notable Dissenting minister of the age, when Methodism was taking its rise in the Oxford University. Dr. Watts saw the retrogression of the Nonconformists, and had fidelity enough to speak of it.

Further testimony respecting the need of a ministry like that of Whitefield and his friends is hardly needed; but the following, from another class of witnesses, may not be unacceptable.

In a sermon preached before the House of Lords, at the Abbey Church in Westminster, on Friday, December 8, 1721, by the Bishop of Norwich, the following paragraph occurs:—

"Notwithstanding the dismal calamities we have already felt, wickedness still overflows the nation like a mighty deluge, so as to overspread all ranks and orders of men amongst us. Do not our eyes behold it continually, in the open atheism, profaneness, and impiety; in the hypocrisy and dissimulation; in the contempt of God and His holy worship; in the profanation of His holy day; in the bold infidelity, and denying the Lord that bought us; in the dreadful abuse of God's great and glorious name, by the horrid oaths, curses, and imprecations, which are heard continually in our streets, and in the places of concourse and conversation; in the practice of the most filthy and abominable lusts; in the lewdness and luxury; in the oppression and injustice; in the implacable malice and hatred of one towards another; and in our senseless divisions and animosities, without cause and without end, which reign everywhere?"

This was strong language to be used in such a place, and before such an audience; and the following, respecting the literature of the day, by another dignitary of the Church of England, Dr. Stanhope, Dean of Canterbury, and Chaplain to his Majesty, is quite as strong. In a sermon, preached in the parish church of St. Pancras, in 1723, Dean Stanhope speaks of many of the productions of the press, as "those monsters of irreligion and profaneness, of heresy and schism, of sedition and scandal, of malice and detraction, of obscenity and ribaldry, which mercenary wretches, void of shame, published for the sake of a paltry present gain, thereby, not only debauching the principles of the age, but, if such detestable compositions can survive so long, propagating the poison to posterity, and furnishing the devil with nets and snares, for drawing in, and sinking down to hell, numbers of unwary souls, which are yet unborn."

In a sermon, preached in Salisbury Cathedral, in 1745, and published at the request of the mayor and corporation, Bishop Sherlock remarked:—

"Let not me be the accuser of my nation, but let every man recollect what he has heard, and read, and seen within the compass of a few years. Surely the gospel of Christ Jesus was never treated with greater malice and contempt, by Jews or heathens, than it has been in this Christian country. Think not that I am condemning a sober enquiry into the truth of religion; but what shall we say for the undisguised profaneness and blasphemy that have swarmed from the press? Many instances might be given; but one can never be forgotten, where the noblest and most exalted hymn of Christian devotion[82] in the world has been perverted to the highest impiety and blasphemy, that the wickedness or malice of man's heart can conceive. This and other crimes are indeed chargeable on the authors; but how deplorable must the state of the nation be, when men find encouragement to provide such entertainment for the public!

"Look into common life, and see what is become of that sense of religion which once animated the people. When popery was breaking in upon us, our churches were crowded. Is it so now? Is not Sunday become a day of diversion to the great ones, and a day of laziness to the little ones? And has not this been manifestly followed by a great increase of great wickedness and violence among the lower people? Theft and robbery, which used to be secret crimes, now appear armed in our streets; and are supported by numbers strong enough to defy the power of the magistrates."

These are melancholy statements; but, coming from such men, it is impossible to doubt their truthfulness. Speaking generally, the churches of the land were sunk into apathy and worldliness, and the people, with few exceptions, were not only regardless of religion, but saturated with infidelity and wickedness. No wonder that the souls of men like Whitefield were stirred to their deepest depths. The country needed a religious agency which it possessed not; and God, in infinite mercy, supplied the want.

It is time to return to Whitefield. As usual, he shall relate his own story. He was eager to embark for Georgia. He had consulted his friends at Oxford, and had secured their approval. He wished, however, to have the judgment of Dr. Benson, who had ordained him; and, hence, writes as follows:—

"On New Year's Day, 1737, I went to Gloucester, to hear the bishop's opinion, and to take leave of my mother and other relations. His lordship received me, as he always did, like a father, approved of my design, and wished me much success. My own relations, at first, were not so passive. My aged mother wept sore; and others urged what pretty preferment I might have, if I would stay at home. But, at length, they grew more quiet, and, finding me so fixed, gainsayed no longer.

"During my stay here, I began to grow a little popular. God gave me honour for a while, even in my own country. I preached twice on the Sabbaths. Congregations were very large, and the power of God attended the word; and some, I have reason to believe, were truly converted.

"In about three weeks, I went to Bristol, to take leave of some of my relations there. As it was my constant practice, go where I would, to attend on the daily public offices of the Church, I went, the Thursday after my coming, to hear a sermon at St. John's Church. Whilst the psalm was singing, after the prayers, the minister came to my seat, and asked me to give the congregation a sermon. Having my notes about me, I complied. The hearers seemed startled, and, after sermon, enquiry was made, who I was? The next day there was another lecture at St. Stephen's. Many crowded thither in expectation of hearing me again. The lecturer asked me to preach. I again complied; and the alarm given here was so general, that, on the following Lord's-day, many of all denominations were obliged to return from the churches, where I preached, for want of room. Afterwards, I was called by the mayor to preach before him and the corporation. For some time following, I preached all the lectures on week-days, and twice on Sundays, besides visiting the Religious Societies. The word, through the mighty power of God, was sharper than a two-edged sword. The doctrine of the new birth and justification by faith in Jesus Christ (though I was not so clear in it as afterwards) made its way like lightning into the hearers' consciences. The arrows of conviction stuck fast; and my whole time, between one lecture and another, except what was spent in necessary refreshment, was wholly occupied in talking with people under religious concern. Large offers were made me, if I would stay at Bristol. All wondered that I would go to Georgia; and some urged that, if I had a mind to convert Indians, I might go among the Kingswood colliers, and find Indians enough there. But none of these things moved me. Having put my hand to the plough, I was determined, through Divine grace, not to look back.

"During my stay at Bristol, I made a little elopement to Bath, where I was kindly received by a dear friend, the Rev. Mr. Chapman,[83] and some elect and honourable women who befriended the Oxford Methodists. I preached at the Abbey Church twice. The late Dr. Cockman was pleased to thank me for my sermon; and application was made to me by several to print both my discourses."

These facts, so ingenuously and simply related, are marvellous. Here was a young man, fresh from college, recently ordained, without patronage, and belonging to the despised Methodists, literally agitating, what was then, in point of population, the second city in the nation; while, at Bath, England's most fashionable resort, with "Beau" Nash, the accomplished rake, at the head of it, the Methodist stripling was gladly welcomed to the cathedral pulpit! This crisis in Whitefield's history was a dangerous one. The adulations of the multitude might easily have disturbed the religious equilibrium of the young preacher, and, thereby, damaged him for life. He felt his peril, and prayed to be preserved from it. The following, written at the time to his friend Harris, at Gloucester, is worth quoting:—

"Bristol, February 10, 1737.

"Dear Sir,—What shall I say? I cannot be with you this week. Methinks it would be almost sinful to leave Bristol at this critical juncture, there being now a prospect of making a very considerable collection for the poor Americans. The whole city seems to be alarmed. Churches are as full on week-days as they used to be on Sundays, and on Sundays are so full, that many, very many, are obliged to go away, because they cannot come in. Oh pray, dear Mr. Harris, that God would always keep me humble, and fully convinced that I am nothing without Him, and that all the good which is done upon earth, God doeth it Himself. Quakers, Baptists, Presbyterians, all come to hear the word preached. Sanctify it, Holy Father, to Thy own glory and Thy people's good!"

From Bristol, Whitefield proceeded to Gloucester, Oxford, and London. He writes:—

"It was now about the middle of February. Lent was at hand, and I was obliged to be at Oxford to perform the remainder of my college exercise, which they call Determining. I went through Gloucester, and abode there a week, visiting the prisoners, and encouraging the awakened souls. Having stayed about ten days at the University, I took, as I thought, my last farewell of my dear friends, and came to London in the beginning of March, in order to wait upon James Oglethorp, Esq., and the honourable trustees.[84] The former introduced me to his Grace the present Archbishop of Canterbury;[85] and the Rev. Mr. Arthur Bedford,[86] at the desire of the latter, went with me to the present Bishop of London.[87] Both approved of my going abroad; the former was pleased to say, 'He would take particular notice of such as went to Georgia, if they did not go out of any sinister view.' This put me upon enquiry what were my motives in going? And, after the strictest examination, my conscience answered, 'Not to please any man living upon earth, nor out of any sinister view, but simply to comply with what I believe to be Thy will, O God, and to promote Thy glory, thou great Shepherd and Bishop of souls.'"

Whitefield expected to sail for Georgia at once; but in this he was disappointed. The following letter, addressed "To the Rev. Mr. John Wesley, minister at Savannah," has not before been published:—

"London, March 17, 1737.

"Reverend Sir,—Though I have had thoughts of going to Georgia for above these seven months, yet I never resolved till I received your kind letter.

"I am now in London. My intention in coming hither was to wait on the trustees and the bishop; and both, I believe, will approve of my going. We are not likely to set sail till July. Your brother intends returning with me; and I hope God will sanctify our voyage. I hear of no one yet like-minded, though there is some hope, I believe, of your seeing Mr. Hall. God direct him for the best!'[88]

"Next week, or the week after, I go to Bath, in order to preach a public sermon for the poor Americans. God has inclined the hearts of His people to give me above £200 already, in private charities, and more, I hope, will still be collected.

"Innumerable are the blessings our God has poured on me since I saw you last, and remarkably has He set His blessed seal to my ministry in England; which encourages me to hope He will likewise do so in Georgia.

"I suppose your brother has informed you, rev. sir, how matters stand at Oxon; and, therefore, I need only add, that I believe there will be a remnant of pious students left in the University, who will take root downwards, and bear fruit upwards.

"I could say a great deal more, and would also write dear Mr. Ingham;[89] but I knew not that the ship was to sail to-morrow; and the trustees[90] have engaged me to dine with them; so I must beg leave to subscribe myself, with earnest prayers for your success in every undertaking,

"Rev. sir, your dutiful son and servant,
"George Whitefield.

"P.S.—I salute dear Mr. Ingham and Mr. Delamotte, whom I desire to love in the bowels of Jesus Christ."

Several things are noticeable in this short letter. Except a general allusion to his ministerial success, there is not a word respecting his marvellous popularity in the city of Bristol. He was already collecting money for the needy inhabitants of Georgia, though his autobiography does not mention this. He addresses Wesley scarcely as a familiar friend, but in language strikingly deferential. He expresses his intention to proceed to Bath, an intention which, for the present, had to be abandoned. Hence the following continuation of his autobiography:—

"I continued in London about three weeks, waiting for Mr. Oglethorpe, who expected to sail every day. In this season, I preached more frequently than when there before. Many more came to hear me; and the last Sunday I was in town I read prayers twice, and preached four times. But, finding Mr. Oglethorpe was not likely to go for some time, and having lain under particular obligation to the Rev. Mr. Sampson Harris,[91] minister of Stonehouse, in Gloucestershire, I went down thither, at his request, to supply his place, whilst he came up to dispatch some affairs in town.

"Here was a little sweet Society, who had heard me preach at an adjacent town, and had wrestled with God, if it was His will, to send me amongst them. They received me with joy, and most of the parishioners were very civil, when I came to visit them from house to house. I found them more knowing than I expected. Their pastor had catechized the little ones in the summer season, and expounded the four lessons every Lord's-day in the church. I followed his good example, and found great freedom and assistance given me both in my public and private administrations. Having the use of the parsonage house, I expounded every night. Many that were not parishioners came to hear, and were edified. On Sundays, besides expounding the lessons, catechising and preaching, I repeated my sermons to the Society. Neither church nor house could contain the people that came. I found uncommon manifestations granted me from above. Early in the morning, at noonday, evening, and midnight, nay, all the day long, did the blessed Jesus visit and refresh my heart. Could the trees of a certain wood near Stonehouse speak, they would tell what sweet communion I and some others enjoyed there with the ever blessed God. Sometimes, as I was walking, my soul would make such sallies as though it would go out of the body. At other times, I was so overpowered with a sense of God's infinite majesty, that I was constrained to throw myself prostrate on the ground. One night, when I had been expounding to many people, it happened to lighten exceedingly, and some being afraid to go home, I thought it my duty to accompany them, and improve the occasion, to stir them up to prepare for the coming of the Son of man. In my return to the parsonage, whilst others were rising from their beds, frightened almost to death, I and a poor, but pious, countryman were in the field exulting in our God, and longing for the time when Jesus shall be revealed from heaven in a flame of fire. Every week the congregations increased; and on Ascension-day, when I took my leave, their sighs and tears almost broke my heart."[92]

Such was the active and happy life of Whitefield during the two months that he spent at Stonehouse. In letters to the brother of the clergyman for whom he was officiating, he wrote:—"Be pleased to send me the 'Poor Country Curate,' and Flavel's 'Husbandry Spiritualized.' I know not what to do for want of a clock in the house.[93] The country now looks like a second paradise. This seems the pleasantest place I ever was in. Surely I can never be thankful enough for being sent hither. People flock to hear the word of God from the neighbouring villages, as well as our own. They gladly receive me into their houses. I have no let or hindrance to my ministerial business. Stonehouse people and I agree better and better. I believe we shall part weeping. Your observations on the weather were pertinent and spiritual. Honest James and I were out in the midst of the lightning, and never were more delighted in our lives. May we be as well pleased when the Son of God cometh to judgment!"

On leaving Stonehouse, exultant Whitefield went to Bristol. He writes:—

"The incumbent of Stonehouse being returned from London, and the people of Bristol having given me repeated invitations, since the time of my embarking was deferred, I paid them a second visit on May 23rd. Multitudes came on foot, and many in coaches, a mile without the city, to meet me; and almost all saluted and blessed me as I went along the street.

"Upon my coming here, I received letters from London, informing me that Mr. Oglethorpe would not embark these two months. This gladdened many hearts, though I cannot say that it did mine; for I counted the hours, as it were, till I went abroad. I preached, as usual, about five times a week; but the congregations grew, if possible, larger and larger. It was wonderful to see how the people hung upon the rails of the organ loft, climbed upon the leads of the church, and made the church itself so hot with their breath, that the steam would fall from the pillars like drops of rain. Sometimes, almost as many would go away, for want of room, as came in; and it was with great difficulty that I got into the desk, to read prayers or preach. Persons of all denominations flocked to hear. Persons of all ranks, not only publicly attended my ministry, but gave me private invitations to their houses. A private Society or two were erected. I preached and collected for the poor prisoners in Newgate twice or thrice a week; and many made me large offers if I would not go abroad.

"During my stay here, I paid another visit to Bath, and preached three times in the Abbey Church, and once in Queen's Chapel. People crowded, and were affected as at Bristol; and God stirred up some elect ladies to give upwards of £160 for the poor of Georgia."

At this distance of time, it is impossible to ascertain who were the "elect ladies" here mentioned. Bath was the resort of all kinds of ladies, titled and untitled, converted and unconverted, moral and immoral. How many of Bath's distinguished female visitors flocked to the Abbey Church to hear the young Christian orator, there is no evidence to show; and it is equally difficult to determine whether any of these casual acquaintances became lasting friends. It is said, that the witty and eccentric Lady Townshend, the mother of the first Marquess Townshend and of the famous Charles Townshend, was the first titled lady who extolled Whitefield's preaching;[94] and it is certain that, within a few years after this visit to the city of Bath, his aristocratic hearers and admirers included the Countess of Huntingdon, the Duchess of Ancaster, Lady Cobham, the Duchess of Buckingham, the Duchess of Queensbury, Lady Lisburne, Lady Hinchinbroke, and others, some of whom will be further noticed in succeeding pages.

This second preaching visit to Bristol lasted for a month. His entrance was a spectacle seldom seen; and his departure was quite as marvellous. The youthful evangelist, in continuation of his artlessly told narrative, remarks:—

"June 21st, I took my last farewell at Bristol; but when I came to tell the people, it might be that they would 'see my face no more,' high and low, young and old, burst into such a flood of tears, as I had never seen before. Multitudes, after sermon, followed me home weeping; and, the next day, I was employed from seven in the morning till midnight, in talking and giving spiritual advice to awakened souls.

"About three the next morning, having thrown myself on the bed for an hour or two, I set out for Gloucester, because I heard that a great company on horseback, and in coaches, intended to see me out of town. Some, finding themselves disappointed, followed me thither, where I stayed a few days, and preached to a very crowded auditory. Then I went on to Oxford, where we had, as it were, a general rendezvous of the Methodists; and, finding their interests flourishing, and being impatient to go abroad, I hastened away, and came to London about the end of August."

Thus passed two months more of this strange and eventful year. Meanwhile, Whitefield had issued his first publication. The following advertisement appeared in the Weekly Miscellany, July 22, 1737:—"Speedily will be published (price sixpence, or two guineas per hundred, to those who give them away), The Nature and Necessity of our New Birth in Christ Jesus, in order to Salvation—a Sermon preached in the Church of St. Mary's Redcliffe, in Bristol, by George Whitefield, A.B., of Pembroke College, Oxford. Published at the request of several of the hearers. Printed by C. Rivington, in St. Paul's Churchyard; and sold by Messrs. Harris, Senior and Junior, in Gloucester; Mr. Wilson, in Bristol; and Mr. Leake, in Bath."[95]

The sermon, thus announced, was published on August 5th, 8vo, 28 pp. The text was, "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature." The four divisions were, 1. What is meant by being in Christ. 2. What we are to understand by being a new creature. 3. Produce arguments to prove why we must be new creatures before we can be in Christ. 4. Draw some inferences from the whole. At the present day, there is nothing in the sermon likely to arrest attention; but, a hundred and thirty years ago, things were different. Then, Whitefield's doctrine, if not new, was startling. It was seldom preached, was hardly understood, and rarely felt. As Whitefield himself observes, "though one of the most fundamental doctrines of our holy religion," "it was so seldom considered, and so little experimentally understood by the generality of professors," that when told "they must be born again, they were ready to cry out, 'How can these things be?'"

The sermon is not remarkable either for its eloquence or depth of thought. It is simply plain, earnest, practical. Two or three extracts, to illustrate Whitefield's style, may be welcome.

Having propounded the doctrine, that being a new creature does not mean "a physical change made in us," but rather an alteration of "the qualities and tempers of our minds," the preacher proceeds,—"As it may be said of a piece of gold that was in the ore, after it has been cleansed, purified, and polished, that it is a new piece of gold; as it may be said of a bright glass that has been covered over with filth, when it is wiped, and so become transparent and clear, that it is a new glass; or, as it might be said of Naaman, when he recovered of his leprosy, and his flesh returned unto him like the flesh of a young child, that he was a new man; so our souls, though still the same as to essence, yet are so purged, purified, and cleansed from their natural dross, filth, and leprosy, by the influences of the Holy Spirit, that they may properly be said to be made anew!'

One of Whitefield's arguments to prove the necessity of the new birth was founded on a consideration of the nature of future happiness. That happiness being spiritual, "unless our carnal minds are changed, and become spiritualized, we cannot be made meet to be partakers of it."

"It is true," he says, "we may flatter ourselves, that, supposing we continue in our natural corrupt estate, and carry all our lusts along with us, we should notwithstanding relish heaven, were God to admit us therein. And so we might, were it a Mahometan paradise, wherein we were to take our full swing in sensual delights. But since its joys are only spiritual, and no unclean thing can possibly enter those blessed mansions, there is an absolute necessity of our being changed, and undergoing a total renovation of our depraved natures, before we can have any taste or relish of those heavenly pleasures. In the very nature of things, unless we have dispositions answerable to the objects that are to entertain us, we can take no manner of complacency in them. For instance, what delight can the most harmonious music afford a deaf man; or what pleasure the most excellent picture give a blind one? Can a tasteless palate relish the richest dainties? or a filthy swine be pleased with a garden of flowers? No! And what reason can be assigned for it? An answer is ready: Because they have no tempers of mind correspondent to what they are to be diverted with. And thus it is with the soul hereafter. For death makes no more alteration in the soul, than as it enlarges its faculties, and makes it capable of receiving deeper impressions either of pleasure or pain. If it delighted to converse with God here, it will be transported with the sight of His glorious majesty hereafter. If it was pleased with the communion of saints on earth, it will be infinitely more so with the communion and society of holy angels, and of the spirits of just men, made perfect, in heaven. But, if the opposite of all this be true, it could not be happy, were God Himself to admit it into the regions of the blessed."

One more extract must suffice. It is taken from the preface to the sermon, and was hardly adapted to gain the young preacher favour among the clergy whom it censures.

"The importunity of friends, the aspersions of enemies, the great scarcity of sermons on this subject, among the divines of our own Church, and not any overweening conceit of the worth of the performance, were, amongst divers others, the reasons that induced me to permit the publication of this very plain discourse. If it be made instrumental towards the convicting of any one sinner, or confirming any one saint, I shall not be solicitous about the censures that may be passed, either on the simplicity of the style, or on the youth of the author.

"I hope it will be permitted me to add my hearty wishes, that my reverend brethren, the ministers of the Church of England, (if such an one as I may be worthy to call them brethren,) would more frequently entertain their people with discourses of this nature, than they commonly do; and that they would not, out of a servile fear of displeasing some particular persons, fail to declare the whole will of God to their respective congregations, nor suffer their people to rest satisfied with the shell and shadow of religion, without acquainting them with the nature and necessity of that inward holiness and vital purity of heart, which their profession obliges them to aspire after, and without which no man living can comfortably see the Lord."

The first sermon which Wesley published, after his conversion, was on the text, "By grace are ye saved, through faith;" its principal subject being "salvation, or justification, by faith only." Whitefield's first sermon is entirely on the new birth. Both the doctrines are of paramount importance; and the preaching of the two combined, created, under God, the Methodism that now exists.

It may be added, that Whitefield's sermon passed through at least three editions before the year of its publication was ended.[96] Other sermons will be mentioned shortly; but, in the meantime, Whitefield's narrative must be resumed. Having come to London "about the end of August," expecting to set sail for Georgia, he says:—

"Every hour now seemed a week, and every week a year, till I was embarked. I knew there was no minister at Frederica, for which place I was appointed, and I did not care to be absent longer from my proper charge. Mr. Oglethorpe's going was still retarded, and I had thought it my duty to go immediately without him, had not he and my other friends urged that the soldiers would shortly embark, and that I had best go over with them. This somewhat pacified me; and, having now taken a final farewell of my friends in the country, I was resolved to abide in London, and give myself wholly to prayer, the study of the Scriptures, and my own heart, till the soldiers should embark.

"The house I lodged at was good old Mr. Hutton's,[97] in College Street, Westminster, where I had the pleasure of seeing my dear friend, Mr. Ingham, lately returned from Georgia; and perceiving him, as I thought, remarkably grown in grace, I longed still more to be sent to the same school, hoping to catch some of that holy flame with which his soul was fired. We freely and solemnly conversed together about my call abroad; and it seemed to both quite clear. Our hearts were knit to each other, like the hearts of David and Jonathan. At midnight, we would rise to sing praises to God, and to intercede for the whole state of Christ's militant Church here on earth.

"With this dear friend, I, one day, paid a visit to a worthy doctor of divinity, near London, who introduced us to some honourable ladies, who delighted in doing good. It being my constant practice to improve my acquaintance with the rich for the benefit of the poor, I recommended two poor clergymen, and another pious person, to their charity. They said little, but, between them, gave, I think, thirty-six guineas. The doctor said,' If you had not spoken for others, you would have had a good deal of that yourself.' God gave me to rejoice that I had nothing, and the poor all. The next day, upon my return to London, in the first letter that I opened, was a bank-note of £10, sent from an unexpected hand as a present to myself.

"About this time, I was prevailed upon to print my sermon on 'The Nature and Necessity of our New Birth in Christ Jesus,' which, under God, began the awakening in London, Bristol, Gloucester, and Gloucestershire. This sermon sold well to persons of all denominations, and was dispersed very much both at home and abroad. Finding another of my sermons was printed, without my leave, and in a very incorrect manner, at Bristol, I was obliged to publish in my own defence; and, afterwards, thought I had a clear call to print any other discourses, though in themselves mean, that I found blessed to the good of souls.

"But to return to my public administrations. Being determined to abide in London till the time of my departure, I followed my usual practice of reading and praying over the word of God upon my knees. Sweet was this retirement, but it was not of long continuance. I was invited to preach at Cripplegate, St. Ann's, and Forster Lane churches, at six on the Lord's-day morning, and to assist in administering the holy sacrament. I embraced the invitations, and so many came, that sometimes we were obliged to consecrate fresh elements two or three times. I also preached at Wapping Chapel, the Tower, Ludgate, Newgate, and many of the churches where weekly lectures were kept up. The congregations continually increased, and generally, on a Lord's-day, I used to preach four times to very large and very affected auditories, besides reading prayers twice or thrice, and walking, perhaps, twelve miles in going backwards and forwards from one church to the other.

"About the latter end of August, finding there were many young men belonging to the" (Religious) "Societies that attended my administrations, I entered into one of their singing societies, hoping to have greater opportunities of doing them good. It answered my design. Our Lord gave me to spiritualize their singing. After they had taught me the gamut, they would gladly hear me teach them some of the mysteries of the new birth. Many sweet nights we spent together in this way; and many of these youths, afterwards, to all appearance, walked with God.

"About the middle of September, my name was first put into the public newspapers. The Sunday before, I was prevailed upon to preach a charity sermon in Wapping Chapel.[98] The congregation was very large, and more was collected than had been for many years upon a like occasion. My friends entreated me to preach another charity sermon, at Sir George Wheeler's Chapel; and, through the importunity of Mr. Habersham (since my faithful assistant in the Orphan House), I agreed to do it. I discoursed upon the widow's giving her two mites. God bowed the hearts of the hearers as the heart of one man. Almost all, as I was told by the collectors, offered most willingly. This still drew on fresh applications. The Sunday following, I preached, in the evening, at St. Swithin's, where £8 was collected, instead of ten shillings. The next morning, I read in one of the newspapers, 'that there was a young gentleman going volunteer to Georgia; that he had preached at St. Swithin's, and collected £8, instead of ten shillings, £3 of which were in halfpence; and that he was to preach next Wednesday before the Societies, at their general quarterly meeting.' This advertisement chagrined me. I immediately sent to the printer, desiring he would put me in his paper no more. His answer was, that 'he was paid for doing it, and that he would not lose two shillings for anybody.' By this means, people's curiosity was stirred up more and more. On the Wednesday evening, Bow Church, in Cheapside, was crowded exceedingly. I preached my sermon on 'Early Piety,' and, at the request of the Societies, printed it.

"Henceforwards, for near three months successively, there was no end of the people flocking to hear the word of God. The churchwardens and managers of charity schools were constantly applying to me to preach for the benefit of the children; and, as I was to embark shortly, they procured the liberty of the churches on the week-days,—a thing never known before. I sometimes had more than a dozen names of different churches, at which I had promised to preach, upon my slate-book at once; and, when I preached, constables were obliged to be placed at the door, to keep the people in order. The sight of the congregations was awful. One might, as it were, walk upon the people's heads; and thousands went away from the largest churches for want of room. They were all attention, and heard like people hearing for eternity.

"I now preached generally nine times a week. The early sacraments were exceeding awful. At Cripplegate, St. Ann's, and Forster Lane, how often have we seen Jesus Christ crucified, and evidently set forth before us! On Sunday mornings, long before day, you might see streets filled with people going to church, with their lanterns in their hands, and hear them conversing about the things of God. Other lecture churches near at hand would be filled with persons who could not come where I was preaching; and those who did come were like persons struck with pointed arrows, or mourning for a firstborn child. People gave so liberally to the charity schools, that this season near,£1000 was collected at the several churches, besides many private contributions and subscriptions sent in afterwards. I always preached gratis, and gave myself.

"The blue-coat boys and girls looked upon me as their great benefactor; and, I believe, frequently sent up their infant cries on my behalf. Worthy Mr. Seward, afterwards my dear fellow-traveller, was their hearty friend and advocate. He was concerned in above twenty charity schools, and, as I found afterwards, inserted the paragraph that so chagrined me.

"The tide of popularity now began to run very high. In a short time, I could no longer walk on foot as usual, but was constrained to go in a coach, from place to place, to avoid the hosannas of the multitude. They grew quite extravagant in their applauses; and, had it not been for my compassionate High Priest, popularity would have destroyed me. I used to plead with Him to take me by the hand, and lead me unhurt through this fiery furnace. He heard my request, and gave me to see the vanity of all commendations but His own.

"Not that all spoke well of me. No; as my popularity increased, opposition increased also. At first, many of the clergy were my hearers and admirers; but some soon grew angry, and complaints were made that the churches were so crowded that there was no room for the parishioners, and that the pews were spoiled. Some called me a spiritual pickpocket, and others thought I made use of a kind of charm to get the people's money. A report was spread that the Bishop of London, upon the complaint of the clergy, intended to silence me. I immediately waited upon his lordship, and enquired whether any complaint of this nature had been lodged against me? He answered, 'No.' I asked his lordship whether any objection could be made against my doctrine? He said, 'No; for he knew a clergyman who had heard me preach a plain scriptural sermon.' I asked his lordship whether he would grant me a license? He said, 'I needed none, since I was going to Georgia.' I replied, 'Then your lordship will not forbid me?' He gave me a satisfactory answer, and I took my leave. Soon after this, two clergymen sent for me, and told me they would not let me preach in their pulpits any more, unless I renounced that part of my sermon on regeneration, wherein I wished 'that my brethren would entertain their auditories oftener with discourses upon the new birth.' This I had no freedom to do, and so they continued my opposers.

"What, I believe, irritated some of my enemies the more, was my free conversation with many of the serious Dissenters, who invited me to their houses, and repeatedly told me 'that, if the doctrine of the new birth and justification by faith was preached powerfully in the Church, there would be but few Dissenters in England.' My practice in visiting and associating with them, I thought, was quite agreeable to the word of God. Their conversation was savoury, and I imagined the best way to bring them over was not by bigotry and railing, but by moderation, and love, and undissembled holiness of life. But these reasons were of no avail. One minister called me a pragmatical rascal, and vehemently inveighed against the whole body of Dissenters. This stirred up the people's corruptions; and, having an overweening fondness for me, whenever they came to church and found that I did not preach, some of them would go out again. This spirit I always endeavoured to quell, and made a sermon on purpose from these words, 'Take heed how ye hear.' One time, upon hearing that a churchwarden intended to take £8 a year from his parish minister, because he refused to let me preach his lecture, I composed a sermon upon 'Love your enemies,' and delivered it where I knew the churchwarden would be. It had its desired effect. He came after sermon, and told me he should not resent the injury the doctor had done me, and then thanked me for my care.

"Nor was I without opposition from my friends, who were jealous over me with a godly jealousy. Thousands and thousands came to hear. My sermons were everywhere called for. News came, from time to time, of the springing-up and increase of the seed sown in Bristol, Gloucester, and elsewhere. Large offers were made me, if I would stay in England. And all the opposition I met with, joined with the consciousness of my daily infirmities, was but ballast little enough to keep me from oversetting.

"I had a sweet knot of religious friends, with whom I first attempted to pray extempore. Some time, I think in October, we began to set apart an hour every evening to intercede with the Great Head of the Church to carry on the work begun, and for the circle of our acquaintance, according as we knew their circumstances required. I was their mouth unto God, and He only knows what enlargement I felt in that Divine employ. Once we spent a whole night in prayer and praise; and many a time, at midnight and at one in the morning, after I had been wearied almost to death in preaching, writing, and conversation, and going from place to place, God imparted new life to my soul, and enabled me to intercede with Him for an hour and a half and two hours together. The sweetness of this exercise made me compose my sermon upon Intercession, and I cannot think it presumption to suppose that partly, at least, in answer to prayers then put up by His dear children, the Word, for some years past, has run and been glorified, not only in England, but in many other parts of the world.

"It was now, I think, that I was prevailed on to sit for my picture. The occasion was this. Some ill-minded persons had painted me leaning on a cushion, with a bishop looking very enviously over my shoulder. At the bottom were six lines, in one of which the bishops were styled 'Mitred Drones.' The same person published in the papers that I had sat for it. This I looked upon as a snare of the devil to incense the clergy against me. I consulted friends what to do. They told me I must sit for my picture in my own defence. At the same time, my aged mother laid her commands upon me to do so, urging 'that if I would not let her have the substance, I would leave her at least the shadow.' She also mentioned the painter, and, meeting with him one night, accidentally, I, with great reluctance, complied, and endeavoured, whilst the painter was drawing my face, to employ my time in beseeching the great God, by His Holy Spirit, to paint His blessed image upon my heart.

"Christmas now drew near. Notice was given me that the soldiers were almost ready to embark for Georgia, and I resolved to go with them. The nearer the time of my departure approached, the more affectionate the people grew. At the beginning of Christmas week, I took my leave; but, oh, what groans and sighs were heard when I said, 'Finally, brethren, farewell!' At Great St. Helen's, the cry was amazing. I was nearly half an hour going out to the door. All ranks gave vent to their passions. Thousands and thousands of prayers were put up for me. They would run and stop me in the alleys, hug me in their arms, and follow me with wishful looks. Once in the Christmas before my departure, with many others, I spent a night in prayer and praise, and, in the morning, helped to administer the sacrament at St. Dunstan's, as I used to do on Saints' Days. But such a sacrament I never saw before. The tears of the communicants mingled with the cup, and had not Jesus comforted our hearts, our parting would have almost been unsupportable.

"At length, on December 28, I left London and went on board the Whitaker, after having preached in a good part of the London churches, collected about £1000 for the charity schools, and got upwards of £300 for the poor of Georgia among my friends."[99]

This is a strange, almost romantic story. Remembering Whitefield's youthfulness and the circumstances of his life, it stands unparalleled. The young Methodist stirred one of the greatest cities in the world. John Wesley was now on his way home from Georgia, disappointed, and deplorably depressed, and wrote, during his ocean journey, "I went to America to convert the Indians; but, oh, who shall convert me?" Twelve months before, Charles Wesley began his "twenty-seventh year in a murmuring, discontented spirit; reading over and over the third of Job;"[100] and during the interval had been worried with all sorts of Georgian vexations. Whitefield all the while was almost as happy as a man could be outside heaven; and, in his pulpit throne, was wielding a power which moved the hearts of thousands. "I suppose," said he to his friend Harris, at Gloucester, "you have heard of my mighty deeds, falsely so called, by reading the newspapers; but I beseech Mr. Raikes, the printer, never to put me into his News upon any such account again. All London is alarmed. Thousands, I hope, are quickened, strengthened, and confirmed by the word preached. God still works more and more by my unworthy ministry. Last week, save one," (November 14, 1737,) "I preached ten times in different churches; and the last week seven; and yesterday four times, and read prayers twice. I now begin to preach charity sermons twice or thrice a week, besides two or three on Sundays; and sixty or seventy pounds are collected weekly for the poor children. Thousands would come in to hear, but cannot." In another letter to the same friend, dated December 23rd, he writes: "On Wednesday night, eighteen of us continued all night in praises, and in praying for you and our other friends. I have preached above a hundred times since I have been here. Last Sunday, at six in the morning, when I gave my farewell, the whole congregation wept and cried aloud. Since that, there is no end of persons coming and telling me what God has done for their souls. The time would fail me, were I to relate how many have been awakened. The great day will discover all. Meanwhile, pray that the goodness of God may make me humble. My farewell sermon will be published shortly, with two or three more."

The charity schools so frequently mentioned in Whitefield's narrative were schools for the education of the children of the poor, to a large extent established by the Religious Societies and by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. In 1744, there were, in London and Westminster, 136 of these schools, containing 5069 scholars.

Whitefield mentions certain "lecture churches" in which he preached. These were churches in which the Religious Societies, founded by Dr. Hornech, Bishop Beveridge, and others, about the year 1677, commenced six o'clock morning services every Sunday, at which ministers, specially engaged for the occasion, preached, and administered the holy communion, their fees being paid out of the sacramental collections, and the overplus of such collections being given for the support of the charity schools just named.[101]

Charles Wesley was in England during the whole of the year of 1737, but was so occupied with Georgian affairs, and with other things, that his opportunities of holding communion with his friend Whitefield were not many. Occasionally, however, they found time to meet, and rejoiced in each other's welfare. Charles writes: "Sunday, October 30th. I waked Jacky Delamotte and Miss Betty at five, and attended them to Forster Lane, where we heard Mr. Whitefield, and communicated together." And again: "Saturday, November 5th. I met and turned back with Betty to hear Mr. Whitefield preach, not with the persuasive words of man's wisdom, but with the demonstration of the Spirit, and with power. The churches will not contain the multitudes that throng to hear him."[102]

During the year, Charles had been worried by a young Dutchman of the name of Appee, who had accompanied; him from Georgia, a religious hypocrite, who was afterwards found to be an infidel, a libertine, a liar, and a thief. He had, also, been introduced to Zinzendorf, just arrived from Germany, and had promised to call on him every day. At Zinzendorf's, he had met with Bishop Nitschmann, had been present at a Moravian service, and had "thought himself in a choir of angels." The Bishop of Oxford had received him with the utmost kindness, and had desired him to call on him as often as he could. He had visited his old friends at Oxford, and his brother Samuel at Tiverton. At her desire, he had waited upon Lady Betty Hastings. He had buried his uncle, Matthew Wesley. He had met his mother and his sisters. He had greeted his "old hearty friend, Benjamin Ingham," just returned from Georgia. He had had interviews with Archbishop Potter, and with his Majesty George II. He and William Law had conversed on religious subjects. He had visited the Delamotte family at Blendon. He had had cavils not a few with Oglethorpe and the Georgian Trustees. As late as October 14, he still contemplated a return to Georgia. He preached occasionally. Everywhere his conversation was religious. But, compared with his young friend Whitefield, his was a life of obscurity. He had no preaching popularity, and, judging from present appearances, was not likely to be blessed or cursed with so dangerous a thing.

On the other hand, Whitefield had burst upon the public as a blazing comet. His fame was trumpeted throughout London. Even poets began to make him the subject of their metrical compositions. The following was published in the Gentleman's Magazine for November, 1737:—

"TO THE REV. Mr. WHITEFIELD, ON HIS DESIGN FOR GEORGIA.

"How great, how just thy zeal, advent'rous youth!
To spread, in heathen climes, the light of truth!
Go, loved of heaven! with every grace refined,
Inform, enrapture each dark Indian's mind;
Grateful, as when to realms long hid from day,
The cheerful dawn foreshows the solar ray.

How great thy charity! whose large embrace
Intends th' eternal weal of all thy race;
Prompts thee, the rage of winds and seas to scorn,
T' effect the work for which thy soul was born.
What multitudes, whom Pagan dreams deceive,
Shall, when they hear thy powerful voice, believe!

On Georgia's shore, thy Wesley shall attend,
To hail the wished arrival of his friend;
With joy the promised harvest he surveys,
And to his Lord for faithful lab'rers prays:
Though crowded temples here would plead thy stay,
Yet haste, blest prophet! on thy destined way.

Be gentle, winds! and breathe an easy breeze!
Be clear, ye skies! and smooth, ye flowing seas!
From heaven, ye guardian angels! swift descend,
Delighted his blest mission to attend;
Which shall from Satan's power whole nations free,
While half the world to Jesus bow the knee.

Long as Savannah, peaceful stream! shall glide,
Your worth renowned shall be extended wide;
Children as yet unborn shall bless your lore,
Who thus, to save them, left your native shore.
Th' Apostles thus, with ardent zeal inspired,
To gain all nations for their Lord desired.

They measured seas, a life laborious knew,
And num'rous converts to their Master drew;
Whose alleluias, on th' ethereal plains,
Rise scarce beneath the bright seraphic strains."

Whatever may be the merits of this high-flown poem, the fact that it was inserted in one of the most able and popular periodicals of the day, affords sufficient evidence of the marvellous fame to which the young Methodist preacher had attained. The incense, however, was not unmixed. Whitefield had many friends; but, as was natural, he also had the fortune of having foes. The crowds praised him; but already envious critics stealthily derided him. Some of the clergy murmured discontent. An unknown artist, in his "Mitred Drones," did his best to make Whitefield ridiculous. The Weekly Miscellany, the principal religious newspaper of the period, was getting angry, and already commenced that anti-Methodistic warfare for which it soon became famous. After a long series of leading articles against infidels, the editor began, on October 28, another series against enthusiasts. It is true that Whitefield is not named; but there can be no doubt that he was the chief person meant. Want of space prevents the insertion of more than one extract,—an extract taken from the first article of the series. The redoubtable Mr. Hooker writes:—

"Enthusiasts feel the truth, though they are unable to defend it; and if you ask a reason, they can only give you a rapture. Zeal without knowledge, sound without sense, and a light in themselves which cannot shine forth before men, are the general symptoms of their disorder. Nay, some of them make the absence of reason necessary to the presence of the Spirit; and accordingly their exercises of religion are entirely inconsistent with the least use of their understanding. Their praying in the Spirit is the utmost extravagance of passion, the wildest flights of the imagination; either glaring nonsense, or darkness visible. If in a sermon, for want of clear thinking or expression, there is room left for the imagination to bewilder itself; or the preacher gives a loose to his passions, one while rising with the wildest ecstasy of joy, again sinking into the lowest dejection of sorrow, and venting sighs of the most immoderate grief; now railing with all the bitterness of rage, then melting into the most soft and tender strains of affection; how apt are we, nay, how common is it for the person himself to believe he is under the influence of the Holy Ghost! His not being able to govern his own spirit is thought a proof of his having that of God; as the furor of the Pythian priestess was the sole sign of her inspiration."

Whitefield, however, was not without defenders. In the year 1733, an important pamphlet was published, with the following title, "The Oxford Methodists: being an Account of some Young Gentlemen in that City, in derision so called; setting forth their Rise and Designs. With some occasional Remarks on a Letter inserted in Fog's Journal of December 9, 1732, relating to them. In a Letter from a Gentleman near Oxford to his Friend in London." On the 9th of December, 1737, a second edition of this pamphlet was issued, "with very great alterations and improvements," (8vo, 29 pp.) To this was prefixed a preface of four pages, which, being the first printed[103] address to Whitefield, deserves to be quoted. The writer says:—

"This little piece was originally written to vindicate gentlemen called by the name of Methodists; and, as their conduct has continued ever since irreproachable, and they have steadfastly persevered in the same course which so laudably began some years ago, and yet have still the misfortune to find themselves slightly spoken of by many persons who care not to fall into their measures, which they may possibly think too strict and self-denying, it must not be thought improper to reprint it now. And to whom can it be so fitly addressed as to you, sir, who have passed under that appellation, and who, by your successful preaching, have so well justified the conduct of the gentlemen who are the subject of it?

"It must afford no small pleasure to all serious Christians to find, by your success in the two first cities of the kingdom, that, degenerate as the age is in which we live, a spirit of piety and attention may nevertheless be excited in the minds of the generality; and that without any other novelty than by preaching the plain and obvious doctrines of Christianity in so serious and affecting a manner as shall show the preacher to be in earnest, and himself affected by the doctrines he would instil into others. And, from hence, there is little room to doubt that if the like method was generally taken by our brethren of the clergy, and if the doctrines of the Gospel were not made to give way to the only secondary rules of morality, the like success would attend their labours, and the Christian religion and our sacred function would be freed from that cold neglect, to say no worse, which is now too frequently thrown upon both.

"I have heard it rumoured that you have been refused, by some of our brethren, the use of their pulpits; but, as you have submitted some of your discourses to the public censure, and as I have not heard it once suggested by the most invidious that there is anything contained in them in the least repugnant to the doctrines of Christianity in general, or those of the Established Church in particular, I hope it cannot be true.

"But be this as it may, let me exhort you, sir, not to be discouraged or dismayed at any opposition that you may meet with in your good designs; but preserve (in the midst of the dangerous applauses you meet with from the crowded audiences that everywhere attend your preaching) that meekness and humility which must be inseparable from the doctrines you seek to propagate, and more than any one thing (beside the blessing of God) insure the success of your labours, and demonstrate to the world that you are yourself under the happy influences which you seek to spread; that your actions are regulated by the doctrines you preach; and that God's glory and the religion of the blessed Jesus are the principal—the only motives that animate your conduct and your views.

"This will entitle you to the blessing of God, and the approbation of all good men; and particularly to the hearty good wishes of your affectionate, though unknown brother in our common Lord,

"A. B."

Another fact in Whitefield's narrative deserves attention, namely, his Christian intercourse with Dissenters. In this respect, he was far ahead of his friend Wesley. In Georgia, Wesley was treating Dissenters with the supercilious tyranny of a High Church bigot. He refused them the sacrament, until they first gave up their faith and principles, and, like Richard Turner and his sons, submitted to be re-baptized by him.[104] Respecting John Martin Bolzius, whose beautiful letter he inserted in his Journal, under the date of September, 1749, Wesley himself remarks, "What a truly Christian piety and simplicity breathe in these lines! And yet this very man, when I was at Savannah, did I refuse to admit to the Lord's table, because he was not baptized—that is, not baptized by a minister who had been episcopally ordained." One of the accusations against Wesley, handed to the grand jury at Savannah, was that he "refused the Office of the Dead to such as did not communicate with him;" and among the findings of the jury were the following: that he had refused the sacrament to William Gough, because he had heard William Gough was a Dissenter; and that he would not allow William Aglionby to stand godfather to the child of Henry Marley, because William Aglionby had not been at the communion table with him.

Such was Wesley in Georgia at the very time when Whitefield in London was having "free conversation with many of the serious Dissenters who invited him to their houses." Who can doubt which of the two Oxford Methodists was right? Wesley had more learning than Whitefield, but, for the present, Whitefield had more charity. One had been bred in Epworth parsonage; the other in a public-house. One was encrusted with old and almost inherited prejudices which it was difficult to cast aside; the other had had a training from which such prejudices were almost, perhaps entirely, excluded. Wesley, to the day of his death, professed a conscientious adherence to the Church of England. Whitefield, almost from first to last, made the Dissenters his friends.

During the year 1737, about half a dozen of Whitefield's sermons were published; and from these the reader may obtain a fair idea of the young preacher's sentiments and style. His almost unbounded popularity is the best excuse for their being committed to the press. Perhaps neither time nor study could have ever fitted Whitefield to occupy the theological professor's chair. He had a calling peculiarly his own, and well was it fulfilled. He was incapable of doing the work Wesley did; but there was another kind of work—popular, earnest, loving, powerful preaching—in which he seems to stand unequalled. His printed sermons fail to convey a correct conception of his spoken ones. The preacher's sonorous voice, his intonations, his action, his facial expressions, are things which could not be embodied in his published discourses; and yet, to things like these, the discourses were greatly indebted for their astonishing effects. Whitefield was the greatest gospel orator of the age. He never stretched after profundity of thought. He made no pretensions of excelling in learned biblical exegesis. A "fine, highly ornamental style" he appears to have eschewed as much as Wesley did. He preached simple truth, with all his might; and witnessed success such as is rarely given a minister to see. The Wesleys had one kind of mission; Whitefield had another. The former expounded, enforced, and defended truth; wrote hymns; published grammars, history, philosophy, commentaries, and books of almost all sorts and sizes; organized societies; instituted ministerial synods; and exercised a kind of episcopal jurisdiction over thousands of loving and loyal adherents. Whitefield was an evangelist, a "preacher of the gospel," a man whose chief, if not only, work was to testify "the truth as it is in Jesus," and to convert men "from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God." Even the ministerial gifts of God are manifold; they always have been so; they always will. At the beginning, "He gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers; for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ." If not equally important, all are needed, all are useful, and none must be despised. "The eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee; nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you." Such a contempt is an injustice to the ministers themselves, and a sin against God who gives them.

Rightly to appreciate Whitefield's pulpit power, the reader of his published sermons must not only ponder what he said, but make an effort to imagine how he said it. With such a proviso, let him read the following extracts from sermons preached and published by the youthful evangelist in the year 1737, and at the commencement of 1738. One of these sermons—on the new birth—has been already noticed. Besides this, there were eight others.[105]

1. "The Nature and Necessity of Society in general, and of Religious Society in particular. Preached in the Parish Church of St. Nicholas in Bristol, and before the Religious Societies, at one of their General Quarterly Meetings in Bow Church, London, in the year 1737."[106] (8vo, 30 pp.)

In a preface, addressed "to the members of every Religious Society in and about the Cities of Bristol, London, and Westminster," Whitefield says, he had not the least intention to let any other of his "discourses see the light," besides the one already printed; but some of his "misguided Bristol friends" had already published "a very incorrect transcript" of this, and had sold nearly four hundred copies before he could stop the circulation. The text of the sermon is Ecclesiastes iv. 9—12. One short extract must suffice. Having used various arguments in recommending Christian fellowship, he proceeds to deduce inferences from what had been advanced, and says, almost prophetically:—

"If the advantages of religious society are so many and so great, then it is the duty of every Christian to establish and promote Societies of this nature. And I believe we may venture to affirm that, if ever the spirit of true Christianity is revived in the world, it must be brought about by some such means as this" (p. 26).

When these words were uttered, little did Whitefield think that the Oxford Methodists would be the means of forming and establishing such Societies, by thousands, in all quarters of the globe.

2. "The Almost Christian: A Sermon preached at the Parish Church of St. John, Wapping. Published at the desire of the hearers." (8vo, 27 pp.) Text, Acts xxvi. 28. Two extracts from this sermon may be welcome:—

"One reason why so many are only almost Christians is, because they set out with false notions of religion. Though they live in a Christian country, they know not what Christianity is. Some place religion in being of this or that communion; more in morality; most in a round of duties; and few, very few, acknowledge it to be, what it really is, a thorough inward change of nature, a divine life, a vital participation of Jesus Christ, an union of the soul with God. Hence, it happens that so many, even of the most knowing professors, when you converse with them concerning the essence, the life, the soul of religion, I mean our new birth in Jesus Christ, confess themselves quite ignorant of the matter, and cry out with Nicodemus, How can this thing be?" (p. 12.)

"An almost Christian is one of the most hurtful creatures in the world. He is a wolf in sheep's clothing. He is one of those false prophets, of whom our blessed Lord bids us beware, who would persuade men that the way to heaven is broader than it really is; and, thereby, enter not into the kingdom of God themselves, and those that are entering in they hinder. These, these are the men who turn the world into a lukewarm, Laodicean spirit; who hang out false lights, and so shipwreck unthinking benighted souls in their voyage to the haven where they would be. These are they that are greater enemies to the cross of Christ than infidels themselves; for, of an unbeliever every one will be aware; but an almost Christian, through his subtle hypocrisy, draws away many after him, and therefore must expect to receive the greater damnation" (p. 22).

This was plain speaking; but who will say that it was not needed?

3. "The Benefits of an Early Piety: A Sermon preached at Bow Church, London. Before the Religious Societies, at one of their Quarterly Meetings, on Wednesday, September 28, 1737. Published at the request of several of the hearers." (8vo, 26 pp.) Text, Ecclesiastes xii. 12.[107]

The following extract enunciates a doctrine, on which, in after years, Whitefield and his friend Wesley differed:—

"If pure religion and undefiled consists in the total renewal of our corrupted natures, then it is not only a work of difficulty, but of time; for, as the old was not, so neither is the new creation completed in a day. No; good men know by experience, that it is a long while before old things can pass away, and all things become new in them. The strong man armed has gotten too great possession of their hearts to be quickly driven out, and they are obliged to combat many a weary hour before their corruptions be wholly taken from them. Nay, they find their whole lives short enough to perfect the work of regeneration, and never expect to say, It is finished, till, with their blessed Master, they bow down their heads, and give up the ghost" (p. 8).

This was Whitefield's theology, but not Wesley's. Whitefield overlooks the all-sufficiency of the Divine Spirit, and speaks as though human corruptions are to be destroyed solely by human endeavours. If this assumption were correct, no one would doubt his doctrine that the entire sanctification of the soul is impossible previous to the hour of death. Wesley taught his people to sing—

"I want Thy life, Thy purity,
Thy righteousness, brought in;
I ask, desire, and trust in Thee,
To be redeemed from sin.

Saviour, to Thee my soul looks up,
My present Saviour Thou!
In all the confidence of hope,
I claim the blessing now.

'Tis done: Thou dost this moment save,
With full salvation bless;
Redemption through Thy blood I have,
And spotless love and peace."

4. "The Great Duty of Family Religion: A Sermon preached at the Parish Church of St. Vedast, Foster Lane. Published at the desire of the hearers." (8vo, 25 pp.) Text, Joshua xxiv. 15.

One extract will be sufficient to exhibit the young preacher's earnestness and fidelity:—

"Fifthly and lastly. If neither gratitude to God, love to your children, common justice to your servants, nor even that most prevailing motive, self-interest, will excite; yet let a consideration of the terrors of the Lord persuade you to put in practice the pious resolution in the text. Remember, the time will come, and that perhaps very shortly, when we must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, where we must give a solemn and strict account how we have had our conversation, in our respective families, in this world. How will you endure to see your children and servants (who ought to be your joy and crown of rejoicing in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ) coming out as so many swift witnesses against you; cursing the father that begat them, the womb that bare them, the paps which they have sucked, and the day they ever entered into your houses? Think you not, the damnation which men must endure for their own sins will be sufficient, that they need load themselves with the additional guilt of being accessory to the damnation of others also? Oh, consider this, all ye that forget to serve the Lord with your respective households, lest He pluck you away, and there be none to deliver you" (p. 23).

5. "The Nature and Necessity of Self-Denial: A Sermon preached at the Parish Church of St. Andrew, Holborn, on Sunday, October 9, 1737. Published at the request of several who heard it." (8vo, 26 pp.) Text, Luke ix. 23.

The following extract is thoroughly Whitefieldian:—

"Thirdly, think often on the pains of hell. Consider whether it is not better to cut off a right hand or foot, and pluck out a right eye, if they offend us, or cause us to sin, rather than to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched. Think how many thousands there are now reserved, with damned spirits, in chains of darkness, unto the judgment of the great day, for not complying with the precept in the text. And think withal that this, this must be our own case shortly, unless we are wise in time, and submit to those easy conditions our Saviour has prescribed us in order to avoid it. Think you, they now imagine Jesus Christ to be a hard master; or, rather think you not, they would give ten thousand times ten thousand worlds, could they but return to life again, and take Christ's easy yoke upon them? And can we dwell with everlasting burnings more than they? If we cannot bear this precept, how shall we bear the irrevocable sentence, 'Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels'?

"Lastly, often meditate on the joys of heaven. Think, think with what unspeakable glory those happy souls are now encircled, who, when on earth, were called to deny themselves, and were not disobedient to the call. Hark! Methinks I hear them chanting their everlasting hallelujahs, and spending an eternal day in echoing triumphant songs of joy. And do you not long, my brethren, to join this heavenly choir? Do not your hearts burn within you? As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, do not your souls so long after the blessed company of these sons of God? Behold, then, a heavenly ladder reached down to you, by which you may climb to this holy hill. If any man will come after them, let him deny himself, and follow them. By this we, even we, may be lifted up into the same blissful regions, there to enjoy an eternal rest with the people of God, and join with them in singing doxologies and songs of praise to the everlasting, blessed, all-glorious, most adorable Trinity, for ever and ever" (p. 26).

6. "Of Justification by Christ: A Sermon preached at the Parish Church of St. Antholin," etc. (8vo, 26 pp.) Text, "But ye are justified." One extract must suffice. Having stated that "we all stand in need of being justified, because we are all chargeable with original sin," Whitefield says:—

"I have been, the more particular in treating of this point, because it is the very foundation of the Christian religion; for I am verily persuaded that it is nothing but a want of being well grounded in the doctrine of original sin, and of the helpless, nay, I may say damnable, condition each of us comes into the world in, that makes so many who call themselves Christians so very lukewarm in their love to Jesus Christ. It is this, and I could almost say this only, that makes infidelity abound among us. We are mistaken if we imagine that men commence or continue infidels, and set up corrupted reason in opposition to revelation, merely for want of evidence. No, it is only for want of an humble mind, of a sense of their original depravity, and an unwillingness to own themselves so depraved, that makes them so obstinately shut their eyes against the light of the glorious gospel of Christ. Were they but once pricked to the heart with a due and lively sense of their natural corruption and liableness to condemnation, we should have them no more scoffing at Divine revelation, and looking on it as an idle tale; but they would cry out with convicted Paul, 'Lord, what wouldest Thou have me to do?' or, with the trembling jailor, 'Men and brethren, what shall we do to be saved?'" (p. 10.)

7. "The Heinous Sin of Profane Cursing and Swearing: A Sermon preached at the Parish Church of St. Nicholas, Cole Abbey"[108] (8vo, 18 pp.) Text, Matthew v. 34. Whitefield's four divisions are—

"I. The crime of profane swearing is highly aggravated, because there is no temptation in nature to this sin, nor does the commission of it afford the offender the least pleasure or satisfaction. II. Because it is a sin which may be so often repeated. III. Because it hardens infidels against the Christian religion, and must give offence, and occasion much sorrow and concern, to every true disciple of Jesus Christ. IV. Because it is an extremity of sin, which can only be matched in hell."

One of the preacher's inferences is as follows:—

"If these things be so, and the sin of profane swearing is so exceeding sinful, what shall we say to the unhappy men, who think it not only allowable, but fashionable and polite, to take the name of God in vain; who imagine that swearing makes them look big among their companions; and really think it a piece of honour to abound in it? Alas! little do they think that such behaviour argues the greatest degeneracy of mind and foolhardiness. This is what they presume not to do in other cases of less danger. They dare not revile a general at the head of his army. And is the Almighty God, the great Jehovah, the everlasting King, who can consume them with the breath of His nostrils, and frown them into hell in an instant; is He, I say, the only contemptible being that may be provoked without fear, and offended without punishment? No. Though God bear long, He will not bear always. The time will come when God will vindicate His injured honour, when He will lay bare His almighty arm, and make those wretches feel the eternal smart of His justice, whose power and name they have so often vilified and blasphemed. Alas! what will become of their bravery then? Will they then wantonly sport with the name of their Maker, and call upon the King of all the earth to damn them any more in jest? Their note will then be changed. Indeed, they shall call, but it will be for 'the rocks to fall on them, and the hills to cover them, from the wrath of Him that sitteth upon the throne, and from the Lamb for ever.' Time was when they prayed for damnation both for themselves and others; and now they will find their prayers answered. 'They delighted in cursing, therefore shall it happen unto them; they loved not blessing, therefore shall it be far from them; they clothed themselves with cursing like as with a garment, and it shall come into their bowels like water, and like oil into their bones'" (p. 16).

8. "Intercession every Christian's Duty: A Sermon preached at the Parish Church of Great St. Helen, on Tuesday, December 27, 1737. Published at the particular request of the hearers." (8vo, 26 pp.) Text, "Brethren, pray for us."

Whitefield was induced to write this sermon by the remarkable blessings he derived from the intercessory meetings he commenced in the month of October; and he now preached it on the day before that on which he left London for Savannah. It contains one sentiment too startling to be omitted:—

"To stir you up," cried the young, impassioned preacher, "to stir you up yet further to this godlike exercise of intercession, consider that, in all probability, it is the frequent employment even of the glorified saints. Though they are delivered from the burden of the flesh, and restored to the glorious liberty of the sons of God, yet, as their happiness cannot be perfectly consummated till the resurrection of the last day, when all their brethren will be glorified with them, we cannot but think they are often importunate in beseeching our heavenly Father shortly to accomplish the number of His elect, and to hasten His kingdom. And shall not we, who are on earth, be often exercised in this Divine employ with the glorious company of 'the spirits of just men made perfect'?" (p. 18.)

The reader will deal with this opinion as he thinks proper; space will only permit the following further extract from this first farewell sermon of the great preacher:—

"You, amongst whom I have now been preaching, in all probability, will see me no more. I am going from you (I trust under the conduct of God's most Holy Spirit), knowing not what shall befall me. I need, therefore, your most importunate intercessions, that nothing may move me from my duty, and that I may not count even my life dear unto myself, so that I may finish my course with joy, and the ministry I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God. Whilst I have been here, to the best of my knowledge, I have not failed to declare unto you the whole will of God; and, though my preaching may have been a 'savour of death unto death' to some, yet I trust it has been also a 'savour of life unto life' to others. The many unmerited kindnesses I have received from you will not suffer me to forget you. Whilst the winds and storms are blowing over me, unto the Lord will I make my supplication for you. In a little while, 'we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ,' where I must give a strict account of the doctrine I have preached, and you of your improvement under it. Oh, may I never be called as a witness against any of those for whose salvation I have sincerely, though too faintly, longed and laboured! It is true, I have been censured by some, as acting from sinister and selfish views; but it is a small matter with me to be judged by man's judgment. I hope my eye is single, but I beseech you, brethren, pray that it may be more so, and that I may increase in the knowledge and love of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. And now, brethren, what shall I say more? I beseech you, as my last request, 'Obey them that have the rule over you in the Lord;' and be always ready to attend on their ministry, as it is your bounden duty. Think not that I desire to have myself exalted at the expense of another's character; but rather think this, Not to have any man's person too much in admiration, but esteem all your ministers highly in love, as they justly deserve, for their work's sake" (p. 25).

Thus ended Whitefield's ministry in London, in the year 1737. The biographer of James Hutton says, "Whitefield was young and modest, but an earnest preacher. He said little, however, of justification through the Saviour, but forcibly insisted on the necessity of being born again. In this way, he arrested the attention of many, particularly of the young, and led them to seek the salvation of their souls. Age 22 They fasted, they wept, and they strove; but how salvation was to be effected they knew not."[109]

This is a somewhat startling statement, and yet there is truth in it. It is an undeniable fact, that, in the nine sermons already mentioned, there is scarcely a single trace of the doctrine of justification by faith only. This is one of the great doctrines of the Word of God. It was pre-eminently one of the doctrines of Luther and of the Reformation. In 1739, it was the doctrine that created the Methodism that now exists; but, evidently, it was not as yet a doctrine Whitefield preached. After all that has been said, it is difficult to account for this; but, at the same time, it is impossible to deny it. Whitefield learnt the doctrine soon afterwards; and, to the end of life, faithfully proclaimed it.

Another point deserves attention. Except, perhaps, the once uttered opinion that sin cannot be destroyed previous to the hour of death, there is not the least allusion, in any of the nine sermons, from which extracts have been given, to any of the Calvinian doctrines with respect to which Whitefield afterwards differed from his friend Wesley. These were dogmas which he had yet to learn. He found them not in the school of the Oxford Methodists, but among the Presbyterians and Independents of America.

The quotations from his sermons may seem numerous, and, to some readers, may be tedious; but, if it be a fact, as it unquestionably is, that Whitefield is famous chiefly as a preacher, it is important to be able to form an idea of the style and spirit of his preaching in this the first year of his marvellously popular and powerful ministry. It is hoped that, in this respect, the foregoing extracts will be found useful. His voice, his intonation, and his pulpit action cannot be put in type; but the reader may easily ascertain what were his leading sentiments, and what the fidelity, zeal, simplicity, and earnestness that marked his preaching.

One more fact must be noticed. James Hutton, the great Moravian, was Whitefield's publisher, but nearly all the sermons already mentioned issued from the press of the most distinguished and learned printer of the age, William Bowyer.

In 1733, John Wesley published "A Collection of Forms of Prayer for Every Day in the Week." In 1737, James Hutton, without Wesley's name, and perhaps without Wesley's sanction, printed a third edition of this manual of devotion, and advertised it as "recommended by the Rev. George Whitefield, B.A., of Pembroke College, Oxford." The reason why Hutton's edition is now named is because it contains Wesley's preface, which Wesley himself omitted in the edition of his collected works in 1772, and which it is believed has, with one exception,[110] strangely enough, never been printed since. The preface is a remarkable production, and, as an exposition of the principles of Wesley, Whitefield, and their friends, it is sufficiently important to be transcribed without abridgment. It is as follows:—

"The following Collection of Prayers is designed only for those who, by the mercy of God, have, first, leisure and resolution to set apart at least half an hour twice a day for their private addresses to Him; and, secondly, a sincere reverence for, if not some acquaintance with, the ancient Christian Church. He who has not the former qualifications will take offence at the length; he who has not the latter, at the matter of them.

"The intention of the collector was, first, to have forms of prayer for every day in the week, each of which contained something of deprecation, petition, thanksgiving, and intercession. Secondly, to have such forms for those days which the Christian Church has ever judged peculiarly proper for religious rejoicing, as contained little of deprecation, but were explicit and large in acts of love and thanksgiving. Thirdly, to have such for those days which, from the age of the apostles, have been set apart for religious mourning, as contained little of thanksgiving, but were full and express in acts of contrition and humiliation. Fourthly, to have intercessions every day for all those whom our own Church directs us to remember in our prayers. Fifthly, to comprise in the course of petitions for the week the whole scheme of our Christian duty.

"Whoever follows the direction of our excellent Church, in the interpretation of the Holy Scriptures, by keeping close to that sense of them which the Catholic Fathers and Ancient Bishops have delivered to succeeding generations, will easily see that the whole system of Christian duty is reducible to these five heads.

"First, the renouncing ourselves. 'If any man will come after me, let him renounce himself, and follow me.' This implies, first, a thorough conviction that we are not our own; that we are not the proprietors of ourselves, or anything we enjoy; that we have no right to dispose of our goods, bodies, souls, or any of the actions or passions of them.' Secondly, a solemn resolution to act suitably to this conviction; not to live to ourselves, nor to pursue our own desires; not to please ourselves, nor to suffer our own will to be any principle of action to us.

"Secondly, such a renunciation of ourselves naturally leads us to the devoting of ourselves to God; as this implies, first, a thorough conviction that we are God's; that He is the proprietor of all we are, and all we have; and that not only by right of creation, but of purchase, for He died for all; and therefore died for all, that they which live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him that died for them. Secondly, a solemn resolution to act suitably to this conviction; to live unto God; to 'render unto God the things which are God's,' even all we are, and all we have; to glorify Him in our bodies, and in our spirits, with all the powers, and all the strength of each; and to make His will our sole principle of action.

"Thirdly, self-denial is the immediate consequence of this. For whosoever has determined to live no longer to the desires of men, but to the will of God, will soon find that he cannot be true to his purpose, without denying himself, and taking up his cross daily. He will daily feel some desire which his one principle of action, the will of God, does not require him to indulge. In this, therefore, he must either deny himself, or so far deny the faith. He will daily meet with some means of drawing nearer to God which are unpleasing to flesh and blood. In these, therefore, he must either take up his cross, or so far renounce his Master.

"Fourthly, by a constant exercise of self-denial, the true follower of Christ continually advances in mortification. He is more and more dead to the world, and the things of the world, till at length he can say, with that perfect disciple of his Lord,[111] 'I desire nothing more but God;' or with St. Paul, 'I am crucified unto the world; I am dead with Christ; I live not, but Christ liveth in me.'

"Fifthly, Christ liveth in me. This is the fulfilling of the law, the last stage of Christian holiness. This maketh the man of God perfect. He, being dead to the world, is alive to God. The man, the desire of whose soul is unto His name; who has given Him his whole heart; who delights in Him, and in nothing else but what tends to Him; who, for His sake, burns with love to all mankind; who neither thinks, speaks, nor acts, but to fulfil His will, is on the last round of the ladder to heaven. Grace hath had its full work upon his soul. The next step he takes is into glory.

"May the God of glory give unto us who have not already attained this, neither are already perfect, to do this one thing, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, to press toward this mark for the prize of our high calling in Christ Jesus!

"May He so enlighten our eyes that we may reckon all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus our Lord; and so stablish our hearts that we may rejoice to suffer the loss of all things, and count them but dung, that we may win Christ!"

In such a frame of mind and heart, young Whitefield went to Georgia. No wonder that he prospered. Half a dozen men, animated with the spirit breathing through the foregoing preface, would at any time move a nation, stir its churches, and reform its morals. Such men are the gift of God, and are infinitely more valuable than all the gold in the Church's coffers. Never did the world need them more than it needs them now. To have them we must ask for them. "The harvest truly is great, but the labourers are few; pray ye therefore the Lord of the harvest, that He would send forth labourers into His harvest."

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FIRST VISIT TO AMERICA.