The next quotation is on the prayer of the Publican, and is a good example of the pith and point of Whitefield's preaching:—
"Methinks, I see him standing afar off, pensive, oppressed, and even overwhelmed with sorrow. He smites upon his breast, his treacherous, ungrateful, desperately wicked breast—a breast now ready to burst; and at length, out of the abundance of his heart, and with many tears, cries out, 'God be merciful to me a sinner!' Not, God be merciful to yonder proud Pharisee! Not, God be merciful to me a saint! for he knew 'all his righteousnesses were as filthy rags.' Not, God be merciful to such or such an one; God be merciful to me, even to me a sinner,—a sinner by birth,—a sinner by thought, word, and deed,—a sinner as to my person,—a sinner as to all my performances,—a sinner in whom is no health, in whom dwelleth no good thing,—a sinner, poor, miserable, blind, and naked,—a self-accused, self-condemned sinner. What think you? Would this publican have been offended, if any minister had told him he deserved to be damned? Would he have been angry, if any one had told him, that, by nature, he was half a devil and half a beast? No; he would have confessed a thousand hells to have been his due; and that he was an earthly, devilish sinner."
The next extract is one of Whitefield's terrible declamations;—
"Hear this, all ye self-justiciaries, tremble, and behold your doom! a dreadful doom, more dreadful than words can express, or thoughts conceive! If you refuse to humble yourselves, after hearing this parable, I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that God shall visit you with all His storms, and pour all the vials of His wrath upon your rebellious heads. You exalted yourselves here, and God shall abase you hereafter. You are as proud as the devil, and with devils shall you dwell to all eternity. Notwithstanding you come up to the temple to pray, your prayers are turned into sin, and you go down to your houses unjustified. And, if you are unjustified, the wrath of God abideth upon you. You are in your blood. All the curses of the law belong to you. Cursed are you when you go out; cursed are you when you come in; cursed are your thoughts; cursed are your words; cursed are your deeds. Everything you do, say, or think, from morning to night, is only one continued series of sin. However highly you may be honoured in the Church militant, you will have no place in the Church triumphant. 'Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God.' Pull down every self-righteous thought, and every proud imagination, that now exalteth itself against the perfect, personal, imputed righteousness of the dear Lord Jesus. 'For he,' and he alone, 'that humbleth himself, shall be exalted.'"
No wonder that fiery eloquence like this attracted notice; and no wonder that it brought upon the preacher the fierce censures of his enemies. The Weekly Miscellany was more furious than ever. The following are specimens of its outpourings:—
On July 7, there was a long letter "to the Rev. Mr. Seagrave," in which Whitefield and his friends were accused of causing "all the miseries attending those poor, weak wretches and their families, who, by the woes and curses denounced on them in default of raising their imagination to the pitch of enthusiasm, had been driven into a belief of their certain damnation, and, consequently, into all the horrors of despair and distraction."
On July 21, the leading article, filling nearly two folio pages, says:—
"The novelist in religion passes with me either for a fool or a knave. These things frequently begin in want of sense, but always end in want of honesty. To keep attention and prevent satiety, false religion is continually changing its dress, as in masquerades, varying its voice, and accommodating its motions, according to all the mazes of error and sportive turns of madness and folly. It gives the rein to every licentious humour, or practises amazing austerities; it distorts the limbs, and screws the features; it laughs, it sings, it weeps, it screams, it groans, it raves in streets, bawls on commons, preaches from walls, and carts, and stools, and windows; expounds, prays, exclaims. The enthusiast is now a quietist, and does nothing; and, anon, in perpetual motion, and never at rest. Sometimes, he is a meteor, which just flashes and disappears; and, sometimes, a direful comet, seen for a long time, and carrying mischief and destruction in the sweep of his tail."
The article proceeds to stigmatise Whitefield as follows:—