After her ladyship's death the institution was removed to Cheshunt, about thirteen miles north of London, where it still flourishes under the presidency of the Rev. Dr. W. H. Stowell.
In the early part of 1769, Mr. Whitefield was for some weeks seriously ill, but towards the close of March, he was able to write, "Through infinite mercy I have been able to preach four days successively." During his illness he received many offers of assistance from his brethren in the ministry, but from none more cordially than from the Honorable and Rev. Mr. Shirley. Writing to him, April 1, Whitefield says:
"How much am I obliged to you for your two kind letters, and more especially for the repeated offers of your ministerial assistance. They will be most gratefully accepted, and, I humbly hope, be remarkably succeeded by Him who hath promised to be with us always, even unto the end of the world. Blessed be His name, we have been favored with most delightful passover feasts. The shout of the King of kings is still heard in the midst of our Methodist camps; and the shout of, Grace, grace! resounds from many quarters. Our almighty Jesus knows how to build his temple in troublous times. His work prospers in the hands of the elect countess, who is gone to Bath, much recovered from her late indisposition. Worthy Lady Fanny Shirley proposes soon to follow, in order to reside there. Some more coronets, I hear, are likely to be laid at the Redeemer's feet. They glitter gloriously when set in and surrounded by a crown of thorns.
"'Subjects of the Lord, be bold;
Jesus will his kingdom hold;
Wheels encircling wheels must run,
Each in course to bring it on.'"
That the friendship of Dr. Franklin towards Mr. Whitefield was sincere, cannot be doubted; there is, however, somewhat painful in the thought, that even in this connection Franklin could not conceal his scepticism. In 1769 both these eminent men were in London, and every one knows that the state of our country was very trying. Franklin thus wrote to Whitefield: "I am under continued apprehensions that we may have bad news from America. The sending soldiers to Boston always appeared to me a dangerous step; they could do no good, they might occasion mischief. When I consider the warm resentment of a people who think themselves injured and oppressed, and the common insolence of the soldiery, who are taught to consider that people as in rebellion, I cannot but fear the consequences of bringing them together. It seems like setting up a smith's forge in a magazine of gunpowder. I see with you that our affairs are not well managed by our rulers here below; I wish I could believe with you, that they are well attended to by those above: I rather suspect, from certain circumstances, that though the general government of the universe is well administered, our particular little affairs are perhaps below notice, and left to take the chance of human prudence or imprudence, as either may happen to be uppermost. It is, however, an uncomfortable thought, and I leave it."
It would have been strange indeed if Whitefield had allowed a letter closing in this manner to pass without a remark; hence we are prepared to find that, in his own handwriting, at the foot of the autograph letter, he wrote, "Uncomfortable indeed! and, blessed be God, unscriptural; for we are fully assured that 'the Lord reigneth,' and are directed to cast all our own care on him, because he careth for us." Could Dr. Franklin have seen the splendid results of that management which he thought indicated the absence of a particular providence—could he have beheld the vast Republic, the abode of liberty, commerce, literature, and religion, which in less than a century has grown out of the insurgent colonies—he would surely have exclaimed, in the language of the prophet, "Verily there is a God in the earth!"
In July, Whitefield was called by Lady Huntingdon to visit Tunbridge Wells, a popular watering place in Kent, some twenty or thirty miles from London, to dedicate a new and beautiful house to the service of God. The congregation was far too large to be accommodated within the walls; he therefore preached out of doors from a mount in the court before the house. His text was, "This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven." Gen. 28:17. This sermon is said to have been one of his most eloquent and thrilling efforts; the lofty energy of his tones, the utter forgetfulness of himself in the all-absorbing interest of his subject, the very impersonation of the truths which he uttered as he stretched forth his hand, "Look yonder; what is that I see? It is my agonizing Lord! Hark, hark! do you not hear? O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord!" thrilled the vast congregation, riveting the eye, piercing the conscience, and holding strong men breathless before the resistless might of his inspired eloquence. After the service he delivered an exhortation, and on the next day again preached and administered the Lord's supper.
He now began to prepare for his seventh, and as it proved, his last voyage to America, especially to visit his beloved orphans and friends in Georgia. The only thing which seems to have grieved him, was the pain of parting for a time from his London friends. This was nothing new, but his feelings were even less reconciled to the event than formerly. "Oh," he says, "these partings! without a divine support they would be intolerable. Talk not of taking personal leave; you know my make. Paul could stand a whipping, but not a weeping farewell."
The text of his last sermon was John 10:27, 28: "My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand." The sermon was printed, and that very incorrectly; but a few sentences will show that it was strikingly characteristic: "These words, it will be recollected, were uttered by Christ at the feast of dedication. This festival was of bare human invention, and yet I do not find that our Lord preached against it. And I believe that when we see things as we ought, we shall not entertain our auditories about rites and ceremonies, but about the grand thing. It is the glory of Methodists, that while they have been preaching forty years, there has not been, that I know of, one single pamphlet published by them about the non-essentials of religion.... The Lord divides the world into sheep and goats. O sinners, you are come to hear a poor creature take his last farewell; but I want you to forget the creature and his preaching. I want to lead you further than the Tabernacle—even to mount Calvary, to see with what expense of blood Jesus Christ purchased 'his own.' Now, before I go any further, will you be so good, before the world gets into your hearts, to inquire whether you belong to Christ or not. Surely the world did not get into your hearts before you rose from your beds. Many of you were up sooner than usual. [The sermon was preached at seven o'clock in the morning.] I hope the world does not get into your hearts before nine. Man, woman, sinner, put thy hand upon thy heart, and say, Didst thou ever hear Christ's voice so as to follow him?... I once heard Dr. Marryatt, who was not ashamed of 'market language,' say at Pinner's Hall, 'God has a great dog to fetch his sheep back when they wander.' He sends the devil after them, to bark at them; but instead of barking them further off, he barks them back to the fold.... 'None shall pluck them out of my hand.' This implies that there is always somebody plucking at Christ's sheep. The lust of the flesh is plucking; the pride of life is plucking; and the devil is continually plucking at them; 'but nothing shall pluck them out of my hand;' I have bought them, and am gone to heaven to 'prepare a place for them.'"
Of this sermon, as taken in shorthand and printed, Whitefield received a copy while at Deal, and was much dissatisfied with it. He says, "This morning I received a surreptitious copy of my Tabernacle farewell sermon, taken, as the shorthand writer professes, verbatim as I spoke it. But surely he is mistaken. The whole is so injudiciously paragraphed, and so wretchedly unconnected, that I owe no thanks to the misguided, though it may be well-meant zeal of the writer and publisher, be they who they will." Had Whitefield known that the lad of seventeen who had thus taken down his sermon, would hereafter become a devoted and useful minister of Christ, the secretary of the London Missionary Society, the originator of the London Religious Tract Society, and for many years the editor of the London Evangelical Magazine, and the author of "Village Sermons," which have circulated by hundreds of thousands of volumes in both hemispheres, how would his heart have warmed towards him. Let us copy from the journal of George Burder, as given in his life by his son, the Rev. Dr. H. F. Burder, a short passage: