To report the sicknesses, the labors, and the successes of Whitefield from this time to that of his sixth embarkation for America, would be little more than a repetition of the past. Suffice it to say, that in England, and in Scotland, he labored amid much ill-health, and surrounded with many dangers; but at length, having found an Episcopal clergyman, the Rev. John Berridge, a man of somewhat eccentric manners, but of great learning, of eminent piety, and of burning zeal, who was willing to labor for a time in London, Whitefield set sail in the ship Fanny, Captain Archibald Galbraith, bound from Greenock to Virginia, June 1, 1763, and arrived at Rappahannock, after a tedious, but otherwise pleasant voyage of about twelve weeks, in the last week of August.
CHAPTER XIV.
SIXTH VISIT AND LABORS IN AMERICA—RENEWED LABORS IN GREAT BRITAIN.
1763-1767.
Whitefield was now for the sixth time in America. He was twelve weeks on the voyage; but though tedious, it had done him good. "I enjoyed," he says, "that quietness which I have in vain sought after for some years on shore." Owing to the violence of his asthma, he had set sail "with but little hopes of farther public usefulness;" but after being six weeks at sea, he wrote to a friend, "Who knows but our latter end may yet increase? If not in public usefulness, Lord Jesus, let it be in heart-holiness. I know who says Amen. I add, Amen and amen."
On his arrival in Virginia, Whitefield was surrounded by many Christian friends, the fruits of his former labors in that colony, but whom he had not hitherto known. It was with great difficulty, however, that he preached to them; for though his general health was better, his breathing was very bad. The months of September, October, and November, he spent in Philadelphia. He says, "Here are some young bright witnesses rising up in the church. Perhaps I have already conversed with forty new creature ministers of various denominations. Sixteen popular students, I am credibly informed, were converted in New Jersey college last year. What an open door if I had strength! Last Tuesday we had a remarkable season among the Lutherans; children and grown people were much impressed." Ill as he was, he preached twice a week, and with his usual success.
He intensely desired at this time to visit Georgia, but was absolutely prohibited by his physicians, till he had recovered his strength. In the end of November, therefore, he passed over into New Jersey, visiting the college, and Elizabethtown. He tells us that at the college he had "four sweet seasons." His spirits rose at the sight of the young soldiers who were to fight when he had fallen. It was now winter, and "cold weather and a warm heart" put him in good spirits, so that he was able to preach three times a week.
A young man, a member of the college, hearing that Whitefield was to preach in the neighborhood, and being more than a little anxious to ascertain whether he really deserved all the celebrity he enjoyed, went to hear him. The day was very rainy, and the audience was small; the preacher, accustomed to address thousands, did not feel his powers called forth as at other times. After having heard about one-third part of the sermon, the young man said to himself, "The man is not so great a wonder after all—quite commonplace and superficial—nothing but show, and not a great deal of that;" and looking round upon the audience, he saw that they appeared about as uninterested as usual, and that old father ——, who sat directly in front of the pulpit, and who always went to sleep after hearing the text and plan of the sermon, was enjoying his accustomed nap. About this time, Whitefield stopped. His face went rapidly through many changes, till it looked more like a rising thunder-cloud than any thing else; and beginning very deliberately, he said, "If I had come to speak to you in my own name, you might rest your elbows upon your knees, and your heads upon your hands, and sleep; and once in a while look up and say, 'What does the babbler talk of?' But I have not come to you in my own name. No; I have come to you in the name of the Lord God of hosts, and"—here he brought down his hand and foot at once, so as to make the whole house ring—"and I must, and will be heard." Every one in the house started, and old father —— among the rest. "Aye, aye," continued the preacher, looking at him, "I have waked you up, have I? I meant to do it. I am not come here to preach to stocks and stones; I have come to you in the name of the Lord God of hosts, and I must, and I will have an audience." The congregation was fully aroused, and the remaining part of the sermon produced a considerable effect.
From New Jersey, Whitefield passed on to New York, where he says, "Such a flocking of all ranks I never saw before at New York.... Prejudices have most strangely subsided. The better sort flock as eagerly as the common people, and are fond of coming for private gospel conversation. Congregations continue very large, and I trust saving impressions are made upon many." Such also was his influence as a philanthropist, that though prejudices ran high against the Indians, on account of a threatened insurrection in the south, he collected about six hundred dollars for Dr. Wheelock's Indian school at Lebanon, Conn., which he soon after visited with much pleasure.