“The infinitely condescending Jesus still vouchsafes to follow the chief of sinners with His unmerited blessing. In Scotland, His almighty arm was most powerfully revealed; and here, in Dublin, many have begun to say, ‘What shall we do to be saved?’ Congregations are large, and very much impressed. All sorts attend, and all sorts seem to be affected. I should be glad to come to London, but cannot in conscience as yet. Not one minister, either in the Church or among the Dissenters, in this kingdom, as far as I can hear, appears boldly for God. To-morrow, therefore, I purpose to set out for Athlone, Limerick, and Cork. God only knows where, after that, will be the next remove. Perhaps to London; perhaps to the north of Ireland, which, I hear, lies open for the gospel. Winter must be the London harvest. O for more labourers, who will account the work itself the best wages!
“July 5. Since writing the above, I have been in the wars; but, blessed be God, am pretty well recovered, and going on my way rejoicing. Pray hard.”
“July 9, 1757.
“You have heard of my being in Ireland, and of my preaching to large and affected auditories in Mr. Wesley’s spacious room. When here last, I preached in a more confined place on the week-days, and once or twice ventured out to Oxmanton Green, a large place like Moorfields, situated very near the barracks, where the Ormond[430] and Liberty (that is, high and low party) Boys generally assemble every Sunday, to fight with each other. The congregations then were very numerous, the word seemed to come with power, and no noise or disturbance ensued. This encouraged me to give notice, that I would preach there again last Sunday afternoon.
“I went through the barracks, the door of which opens into the Green, and pitched my tent near the barrack walls, not doubting of the protection, or at least interposition, of the officers and soldiery, if there should be occasion. But how vain is the help of man! Vast was the multitude that attended. We sang, prayed, and preached, without much molestation; only, now and then, a few stones and clods of dirt were thrown at me. It being war time, I exhorted my hearers, as is my usual practice, not only to fear God, but to honour the best of kings; and, after the sermon, I prayed for success to the Prussian arms.[431]
“All being over, I thought to return home the way I came; but, to my great surprise, access to the barracks was denied, so that I had to go near half a mile, from one end of the Green to the other, through hundreds and hundreds of papists, etc. Finding me unattended, (for a soldier and four Methodist preachers,[432] who came with me, had forsook me and fled,) I was left to their mercy. Their mercy, as you may easily guess, was perfect cruelty. Vollies of hard stones came from all quarters, and every step I took, a fresh stone struck, and made me reel backwards and forwards, till I was almost breathless, and was covered all over with blood. My strong beaver hat served me, as it were, for a skullcap for a while; but, at last, that was knocked off, and my head left quite defenceless. I received many blows and wounds; one was particularly large near my temples. Providentially, a minister’s house stood next door to the Green. With great difficulty I staggered to the door, which was kindly opened to, and shut upon me. Some of the mob, in the meantime, broke part of the boards of the pulpit into splinters, and beat and wounded my servant grievously in his head and arms, and then came and drove him from the door of the house where I had found a refuge.
“For a while, I continued speechless, expecting every breath to be my last. Two or three of my friends, by some means, got admission, and kindly washed my wounds. I gradually revived, but soon found the lady of the house desired my absence, for fear the house should be pulled down. What to do, I knew not, being near two miles from Mr. Wesley’s place. Some advised one thing, and some another. At length, a carpenter, one of the friends who came in, offered me his wig and coat, that I might go off in disguise. I accepted of them, and put them on, but was soon ashamed of not trusting my Master to secure me in my proper habit, and threw them off in disdain. Immediately, deliverance came. A Methodist preacher, with two friends, brought a coach; I leaped into it, and rode, in gospel triumph, through the oaths, curses, and imprecations of whole streets of papists, unhurt.
“None but those who were spectators of the scene can form an idea of the affection with which I was received by the weeping, mourning, but now joyful Methodists. A Christian surgeon was ready to dress my wounds, which being done, I went into the preaching place, and, after giving a word of exhortation, joined in a hymn of praise and thanksgiving to Him, who makes our extremity His opportunity, and who stills the noise of the waves, and the madness of the most malignant people.
“The next morning, I set out for Port Arlington, and left my persecutors to His mercy, who out of persecutors has often made preachers.”[433]
The hard knocks Whitefield received from the Dublin papists did not prevent the carrying out of his plan to visit the towns already mentioned. Hence the following:—