"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.