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."