“I will tell you the very picture of damned souls in hell. Have you never seen a potter’s oven, where he bakes his pots? Now the longer these pots bake, the harder they grow. Just so does one of these damned souls. God keep you and me, dear brethren, from ever being one of their unhappy number! (Sighing by the people.)”
For the next twelve months, Whitefield was an invalid, and, with a few exceptions, was obliged to refrain from preaching. The following extracts from his letters are painfully interesting. His health was gone, and yet, when he could, he tried to preach.
“Plymouth, June 5, 1761.
“Through Divine mercy, I am somewhat improved in my health since my leaving London. At Bristol, I grew sensibly better, but hurt myself by too long journeys to Exeter and hither. However, blessed be God! I am now recovered from my fatigue, and hope bathing will brace me up for my glorious Master’s use again. The few times I have been enabled to preach, the infinitely condescending Redeemer has breathed upon the word. Who knows but I may get my wings again? Abba, Father, all things are possible with Thee!”
“Bristol, June 11, 1761.
“These few lines leave me rather hurt by my late western journey. I strive to put out to sea as usual, but my shattered bark will not bear it. If this air does not agree with me, I think of returning, in a few days, to my old nurses and physicians. Blessed be God for an interest in an infinitely great, infinitely gracious, and sympathising, unchangeable Physician! I hope you and yours enjoy much of His heart-cheering consolations. These have been my support in my younger days; these will be my cordials in the latter stages of the road. Jesus lives when ministers die.”
In the beginning of July, Whitefield had returned to London. Meanwhile, news had arrived of the English fleets having taken Belleisle, on the coast of Brittany, and Dominica in the West Indies. Pondicherry, also, the capital settlement of the French in the East Indies, had been surrendered to the British troops, and the English were left undisputed masters of the rich coast of Coromandel, and of the whole trade of the vast Indian Peninsula, from the Ganges to the Indus. Considering how, for the last quarter of a century, Whitefield’s whole soul had been absorbed in the great work of preaching Christ and saving souls, it is curious to see him so profoundly interested in the war which was now raging in the four quarters of the earth,and in the victories won by the British arms. Hence the following:—
“London, July 6, 1761. Blessed be God, I am better! Blessed be God that you are so likewise! Who knows what rest and time may produce? Oh to be blanks in the hands of Jesus! When shall this once be? What good news by sea and land! Grace! Grace!”
Wesley was now in Yorkshire, and was anxious about the health of his old and much-loved friend. He had been in company with Venn, who had become vicar of Huddersfield, and Venn had created fears that Whitefield’s labours and life were almost ended. Hence, in a letter to Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell, the London banker, Wesley wrote:—
“Bradford, July 16, 1761. Mr. Venn informs me that Mr. Whitefield continues very weak. I was in hope, when he wrote to me lately, that he was swiftly recovering strength. Perhaps, sir, you can send me better news concerning him. What need have we, while we do live, to live in earnest!”[488]