George Whitefield: A Biography, with special reference to his labors in America

by Joseph Belcher

Of course it would be expected that the sermons at Savannah would be of great interest. Such a discourse was delivered by the Rev. Mr. Ellington, who very truly said, "Whitefield's longing desires for the salvation of immortal souls would not admit of his being confined within the limits of any walls. How he has preached, with showers of stones, and many other instruments of malice and revenge about his ears, many of his surviving friends can witness. But having the salvation of sinners at heart, and a great desire to rescue them from the power of an eternal death, he resolved to spend and be spent for the service of precious and immortal souls; and spared no pains and refused no labor, so that he might administer to their real and eternal good. He died like a hero on the field of battle. Thousands in England, Scotland, and America have great reason to bless God for his ministrations."

Who shall attempt to describe the feelings of the congregations at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court chapels, when the news of their pastor's death first reached them? All were indeed clothed in mourning. By Whitefield's own previous appointment, the Rev. John Wesley preached the funeral sermon at Tottenham Court-road chapel. The preacher bore this testimony: "In his public labors he has for many years astonished the world with his eloquence and devotion. With what divine pathos did he persuade the impenitent sinner to embrace the practice of early piety and virtue. Filled with the spirit of grace, he spoke from the heart with a fervency of zeal perhaps unequalled since the days of the apostles; and adorned the truths he delivered with the most graceful charms of rhetoric and oratory. From the pulpit he was unrivalled in the command of an ever-crowded auditory. It was the love of God shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Ghost which filled his soul with tender, disinterested love to every child of man.... Mention has been already made of his unparalleled zeal, his indefatigable activity, his tender-heartedness to the afflicted, and charitableness towards the poor. But should we not likewise mention his deep gratitude to all whom God had used as instruments of good to him? of whom he did not cease to speak in the most respectful manner, even to his dying day. Should we not mention that he had a heart susceptible of the most generous and the most tender friendship? I have frequently thought that this, of all others, was the distinguishing part of his character. How few have we known of so kind a temper, of such large and flowing affections! Was it not principally by this that the hearts of others were so strongly drawn and knit to him? Can any thing but love beget love? This shone in his very countenance, and continually breathed in all his words, whether in public or private. Was it not this which, quick and penetrating as lightning, flew from heart to heart; which gave that life to his sermons, his conversation, his letters? Ye are witnesses."

The Rev. John Newton preached a funeral sermon at Olney, where he was then settled, from the highly appropriate text, "He was a burning and a shining light," John 5:35, in which he thus speaks of Whitefield: "Some ministers are burning and shining lights in a peculiar and eminent degree. Such a one, I doubt not, was the servant of God whose death we now lament. I have had some opportunities of looking over the history of the church in past ages; I am not backward to say, that I have not read or heard of any person, since the apostles' days, of whom it may be more emphatically said, 'He was a burning and a shining light,' than the late Mr. Whitefield; whether we consider the warmth of his zeal, the greatness of his ministerial talents, or the extensive usefulness with which the Lord honored him. I do not mean to praise the man, but the Lord who furnished him, and made him what he was. He was raised up to shine in a dark place. The state of religion when he first appeared in public, was very low in our established church. I speak the truth, though to some it may be an offensive truth. The doctrines of grace were seldom heard from the pulpit, and the life and power of godliness were little known. Many of the most spiritual among the dissenters, were mourning under a sense of a great spreading declension on their side. What a change has taken place throughout the land within a little more than thirty years; that is, since the time when the first set of despised ministers came to Oxford! And how much of this change has been owing to God's blessing on Mr. Whitefield's labors, is well known to many who have lived through this period, and can hardly be denied by those who are least willing to allow it.... His zeal was not like wildfire, but directed by sound principles, and a sound judgment.... The Lord gave him a manner of preaching which was peculiarly his own. He copied from none, and I never met with any one who could imitate him with success."

With regret we tear ourselves away from Romaine and Toplady, from Pemberton and Parsons, and from a multitude of others who bore testimonies like those we have given, but which would exceed the limits of our narrative.

Mr. Newton, after his removal to London, once breakfasting with a company of noblemen and gentlemen, was asked if he knew Mr. Whitefield. He answered in the affirmative, and remarked, that as a preacher Mr. Whitefield far exceeded every other man of his time. Mr. Newton added, "I bless God that I lived in his time: many were the winter mornings I rose at four o'clock to attend his Tabernacle discourses at five; and I have seen Moorfields as full of lanterns at these times, as I suppose the Hay market is full of flambeaux on an opera night." As a proof of the power of Mr. Whitefield's preaching, Mr. Newton said, that a military officer at Glasgow, who had heard him preach, laid a wager with another, that at a certain charity sermon, though he went with prejudice, he would be compelled to give something. The other, to make sure that he would not, laid aside all the money out of his pockets; but before he left the church, he was glad to borrow some, and lose his bet. Mr. Newton mentioned as another striking illustration of Mr. Whitefield's persuasive oratory, his collecting after one sermon £600, or about $3,000, for the inhabitants of an obscure village in Germany, that had been burned down. After this sermon, Whitefield said, "We shall sing a hymn, during which those who do not choose to give their mite on this awful occasion, may sneak off." Not one moved; he came down from the pulpit, ordered all the doors to be shut but one, at which he held the plate himself, and collected the large sum we have named. Mr. Newton farther stated what he knew to be a fact, that at the time of Whitefield's greatest persecution, when obliged to speak in the streets, in one week he received not fewer than a thousand letters from persons distressed in their consciences by the energy of his preaching.

A gentleman of title in England was one day examining some works of the distinguished sculptor, John Bacon. Among them he observed a bust of Mr. Whitefield, which led him to remark, "After all that has been said, this was truly a great man; he was the founder of a new religion." Mr. Bacon replied, "A new religion, sir?" "Yes," said the baronet; "what do you call it?" "Nothing," was the reply, "but the old religion revived with new energy, and treated as though the preacher meant what he said."

Several interesting narratives have been given of visits to the tomb of Whitefield, which show the preciousness of his memory.

In 1834, the Rev. Andrew Reed, D. D., of London, and the late Rev. James Matheson, D. D., of Durham, visited this country as a deputation to its churches from the Congregational Union of England and Wales. In describing their visit to Newburyport, Dr. Reed says, "We had a conference with the pastors here, and afterwards went to the church which is enriched with the remains of Whitefield. The elders of the church were present in the porch to receive us. We descended to the vault. There were three coffins before us. Two pastors of the church lay on either side, and the remains of Whitefield in the centre. The cover was slipt aside, and they lay beneath my eye. I had before stood in his pulpits; seen his books, his rings, and chairs; but never before had I looked on part of his very self. The skull, which is perfect, clean, and fair, I received, as is the custom, into my hand. I could say nothing; but thought and feeling were busy. On returning to the church, I proposed an exercise of worship. We collected over the grave of the eloquent, the devoted, and seraphic man, and gave expression to the sentiments that possessed us, by solemn psalmody and fervent prayer. It was not an ordinary service to any of us."

In the year 1835, a similar deputation visited this country from the Baptist Union of Great Britain and Ireland. It consisted of the late Rev. F. A. Cox, D. D., of London, and the Rev. James Hoby, D. D., then of Birmingham. They also visited the tomb of our never-to-be-forgotten evangelist. We give a few sentences from their report: "We made an excursion to Newburyport, thirty-nine miles from Boston, to see the tomb of Whitefield. On our arrival, we hastened to the depository of the precious remains of that eminent servant of God.... We descended with some difficulty into the subterraneous vault, which is immediately behind the pulpit, in a small chamber like a vestry, external to the body of the church. Deep expectant emotions thrilled through our bosoms, while a kind of trap-door was opened, and we descended beneath the floor to another door, which stood perpendicularly, by which we entered, or rather crept, into the awful and silent sepulchre. There were three coffins placed in parallel lines; two of them containing the mortal part of Mr. Parsons and Mr. Prince, pastors of the church. We instinctively took our seats, the one on the one coffin, the other on the other, with the coffin of Whitefield between, over which, when the upper part of the lid was removed, to reveal the skeleton secrets of the narrow prison-house, we bent in solemn stillness and awe. We gazed on the fragments—we contemplated and handled the skull of that great preacher of righteousness—we thought of his devoted life, his blessed death, his high and happy destiny; and whispered our adorations of the grace that formed him both for earth and heaven."