Then, and not till then, will your ladyship with cheerfulness wait for the approach of death. It is a true and living faith in the Son of God that can alone bring present peace, and lay a solid foundation for future and eternal comfort. I cannot wish your ladyship anything greater, anything more noble, than a large share of this precious faith. When, like Noah’s dove, we have been wandering about in a fruitless search after happiness, and have found no rest for the sole of our feet, the glorious Redeemer is ready to reach out His hand and receive us into His ark. This hand, honoured madam, He is reaching out to you. May you be constrained to give your heart entirely to Him, and thereby enter into that rest which remains for the happy, though despised, people of God.”
The foregoing were some, not all, of Whitefield’s aristocratic hearers. Others will be mentioned hereafter. The gatherings, in Chelsea and in North Audley Street, were profoundly interesting spectacles; and never, till the day of judgment, when all secrets will be unfolded, will it be ascertained to what extent the preaching of the youthful Whitefield affected the policy of some of England’s greatest statesmen, and moulded the character of some of its highest aristocratic families. Who will venture to deny that, in some of these families, the effects of Whitefield’s ministry is felt to the present day? Let us pursue his history.
Whitefield continued his correspondence with Hervey and Stonehouse. On January 13, 1749, he wrote to the former as follows:—
“The prospect of doing good to the rich, who attend the house of good Lady Huntingdon, is very encouraging. I preach there twice a week, and yesterday Lord Bolingbroke was one of my auditors. His lordship was pleased to express very great satisfaction. Who knows what God may do? He can never work by a meaner instrument. I want humility, I want thankfulness, I want a heart continually flaming with the love of God.
“I thank you for your kind invitation to your house and pulpit. I would not bring you or any of my friends into difficulties, for owning poor, unworthy, hell-deserving me; but, if Providence should give me a clear call, I shall be glad to come your way. I rejoice in the prospect of having some ministers in our church pulpits who dare own a crucified Redeemer. I hope the time will come when many of the priests will be obedient to the word.”
It is a humiliating fact, that Whitefield, an ordained clergyman, and under no official censure, was not able to avail himself of Hervey’s invitation without the probability of involving his gentle friend in trouble; and it is a beautifultrait in Whitefield’s character, that, however great the gratification of preaching in a church might be, he was unwilling to indulge himself in such a pleasure at the expense of any of his friends.
Dr. Stonehouse occasioned Whitefield sorrow and anxiety. The Doctor was a sincere, earnest, and devout Christian, but he was afraid of being branded as a Methodist; and, for the same reason, he was afraid of being known as one of Whitefield’s friends. Hence the following, written four days after the date of the letter just quoted:—
“The way of duty is the way of safety. Our Lord requires of us to confess Him in His gospel members and ministers. To be afraid of publicly owning, associating with, and strengthening the hearts and hands of the latter, especially when they are set for the defence of the gospel, is, in my opinion, very offensive in His sight, and can only proceed from a want of more love to Him and His people. You say, ‘We are most of us too warm;’ but I hope you do not think that being ashamed of any of your Lord’s ministers is an instance of it. Thanks be to God! that Mr. Hervey seems, as you express it, ‘to court the enmity of mankind.’ It is an error on the right side. Better so than to be afraid of it. The Lord never threatened to spew any church out of His mouth for being too hot; but, for being neither hot nor cold, He has. It is too true, my dear sir, ‘we have but few faithful ministers;’ but is keeping at a distance from one another the way to strengthen their interest? By no means. To tell you my whole mind, I do not believe God will bless either you or your friends, to any considerable degree, till you are more delivered from the fear of man. Alas! how were you bowed down with it, when I saw you last! And your letter bespeaks you yet a slave to it. O my brother, deal faithfully with yourself, and you will find a love of the world, and a fear of not providing for your children, have gotten too much hold of your heart. Do not mistake me. I would not have you throw yourself into flames. I would only have you act a consistent part, and not, for fear of a little contempt, be ashamed of owning the ministers of Christ. After all, think not, my dear sir, that I am pleading my own cause. You are not in danger of seeing me at Northampton. I only take this occasion of saying a word or two to your heart. You will not be offended, as it proceeds from love. I salute Mr. Hervey, and dear Doctor Doddridge, most cordially.”
Towards the end of January, Whitefield set out, from London, to the west of England, where he spent the next five weeks. By appointment,he and Howell Harris held an “Association” at Gloucester,[222] where, he says, “affairs turnedout better than expectation.” From Gloucester, he proceeded to Bristol, where he employed the next ten days.
Whitefield was singularly devoid of envy. On leaving London,his place at Lady Huntingdon’s was occupied by his friend Wesley,[223] whose preaching secured her ladyship’s approval.Robert Cruttenden also introduced the Rev. Thomas Gibbons, D.D.,[224] a young man of twenty-eight, who, at this time, was the officiating minister of the Independent Church at Haberdashers’ Hall. Cruttenden, in a letter to Whitefield,told him that their two hours’ interview with the Countess had been exceedingly pleasant.[225] With his large heart, Whitefield was delighted by such intelligence as this, and wrote to her ladyship as follows:—