“He knows his Master’s realm so well,
His sermons are a map of hell,
An Ollio made of conflagration,
Of gulphs of brimstone, and damnation,
Eternal torments, furnace, worm,
Hell-fire, a whirlwind, and a storm.”
An apology is almost needed for the insertion of such profanity as this, and yet, without it, it is impossible to convey to the reader an adequate idea of the ridicule and odium cast upon dying Whitefield. Vile as are the extracts given, much viler remain unquoted.
Whitefield concluded the year 1766 by writing one of his characteristic letters to Thomas Powys, Esq., who was entertaining, at his mansion in Shropshire, during Christmastide, the Rev. Messrs. Venn, Ryland, Dr. Conyers, and Powley, vicar of Dewsbury.[555]
“At my Tottenham Court Bethel,
“Six in the Morning, December 30, 1766.