The next day, land appeared. Their plight was pitiable. They had but half a pint of water left. A boat was sent on shore. Provisions and water were obtained; and Mr. McMahon, "a great country gentleman," sent an invitation to Whitefield to visit him, and to stay in his house as long as he liked. "As soon as the provisions came," says Whitefield, "we kneeled down and returned hearty thanks to our good God, who has heard our prayers, and sent His angel before us to prepare our way." On November 14, the ship anchored near the west coast of Ireland, and Whitefield landed. He writes:—
"The voyage has been greatly for my good; for I have had a glorious opportunity of searching the Scriptures, composing discourses, writing letters, and communing with my own heart. We have been on board just nine weeks and three days,—a long and perilous, but profitable voyage to my soul; for, I hope, it has taught me, in some measure, to endure hardships as becometh a minister of Christ. My clothes have not been off (except to change me) all the passage. Part of the time I lay on open deck; part on a chest; and the remainder on a bedstead covered with my buffalo's skin. These things, though little in themselves, are great in their consequences; and, whosoever despiseth small acts of bodily discipline, it is to be feared, will insensibly lose his spiritual life by little and little. As for the success of my ministry whilst on board, I shall only say, much sin has been prevented, and one I hope effectually converted, who is to be my fellow-traveller to England."
Mr. McMahon treated Whitefield with the genuine hospitality of an Irish gentleman, and furnished him with three horses to convey him, his servant, and the new convert just mentioned, from one side of Ireland to the other.
Their first day's journey brought them to Kilrush, where they met Captain Coc and a number of his crew, who, the night before, had been almost wrecked. Whitefield writes: "On entering our inn, we kneeled down and prayed; and again, at night, sung psalms, and prayed with the captain and several of my shipmates; the first time, I believe, the room was ever put to such a use by a ship's crew and their chaplain."
Whilst here, undaunted by his recent privations and dangers, Whitefield wrote to a friend in England:—
"Kilrush, Nov. 16, 1738.
"I send you this to inform you of my safe arrival here. I know you will rejoice and give thanks, and pray that my coming to London may be in the fulness of the blessing of the gospel of peace. God has done for me more abundantly than I could dare to ask or think. The seed of the glorious gospel has taken root in the American ground, and, I hope, will grow up into a great tree. America—infant Georgia—is an excellent soil for Christianity; you cannot live there without taking up a daily cross; therefore, I shall hasten back as soon as possible after Christmas."
Whitefield's second day's Irish journey was from Kilrush to Fourthfargus,[145] a distance of about thirty miles. Everywhere he was struck with the poverty of the people, and thought the huts in Georgia were palaces when compared with the Irish turf and mud-built cabins. In this the cold and wet month of November, he saw many of the people walking barefoot, some because they were destitute of shoes, and others carrying in their hands their "clouted brogues" to save them from wearing out. Nearly all were papists, and "seemed," says Whitefield, "so very ignorant that they may well be termed the wild Irish."
On Saturday, November 19, he came to Limerick, where he spent the Sunday. Dr. Burscough, Bishop of Limerick, received him "with the utmost candour and civility;" and, at his lordship's request, he preached in the cathedral "to a very numerous audience, who seemed universally affected." After sermon, the mayor sent twice to invite him to dinner; but he "was pre-engaged to the bishop," who offered him "the free use of his palace." "As I was eating at dinner," says Whitefield, "I was meditating on the Divine goodness in spreading such a table for me, when last Sunday I was in danger of perishing with hunger. But I thought, at the same time, if this was so great a blessing, what an infinitely greater one will it be, after the troubles of this life, to sit down and eat bread in the kingdom of God." The next day, when taking leave of his lordship, "the good bishop kissed him, and said, 'Mr. Whitefield, God bless you! I wish you success abroad. Had you stayed in town, this house should have been your home.'"
Three days afterwards, the weather-beaten hero arrived at Dublin, and thus completed his journey of about 200 miles across the "sister island," remarking that there were two things for which Ireland deserved credit,—the roads were good, and provisions cheap.
During the five days that Whitefield spent in Dublin, he visited the celebrated Dr. Delany, who received him with the greatest kindness. Through Delany, he was introduced to Dr. Rundle, Bishop of Londonderry, and to Dr. Boulter,[146] the Archbishop of Armagh, both of whom invited him to dinner. He also preached in two of the Dublin churches—St. Werburgh's and St. Andrew's—and says, "God enabled me to speak with power."