These fragmentary records are truly marvellous. How a man, in such health, performed such labours, for months together, it is difficult to imagine.
Once again in London, his Orphan House demanded his attention. The family had been reduced, and he now had it in his “power to pay off all Bethesda’s arrears.” He sent a number of “Bibles and other books.” “He longed for an opportunity” to go himself; but the war prevented him, and he knew not how to get supplies for his two London chapels. He was, however, quite satisfied with the management of his housekeeper, and sent her “ten thousand thousand thanks.” He wished his superintendent to consign him “a little rice and indigo,” that his “friends might see some of the Orphan House produce.” Taken altogether, his affairs in Georgia were less embarrassing than usual.[454]
During the year, Whitefield had gained a new clerical friend, in Berridge of Everton; but, before it ended, he lost a friend, whom he dearly loved. James Hervey died on Christmas-day, 1758. Within a week of this mournful occurrence, Whitefield wrote the following pathetic letter to the dying rector of Weston-Favel:—
“London, December 19, 1758.
“And is my dear friend indeed about to take his last flight? I dare not wish your return into this vale of tears. But our prayers are continually ascending to the Father of our spirits that you may die in the embraces of a never-failing Jesus, and in all the fulness of an exalted faith. O when will my time come! I groan in this tabernacle, being burdened, and long to be clothed with my house from heaven. Farewell! My very dear friend, f—a—r—e—well! Yet a little while, and we shall meet,—
‘Where sin, and strife, and sorrow cease,
And all is love, and joy, and peace.’
“There Jesus will reward you for all the tokens of love which you have showed, for His great name’s sake, to yours most affectionately in our common Lord,
“George Whitefield.”
“P.S. God comfort your mother, and relations, and thousands and thousands more who will bewail your departure!”[455]