A few other extracts, from Whitefield’s last sermons in London, may be welcome. They are taken from the 8vo. volume, published by Gurney immediately after Whitefield’s death.[634]
“The Devil’s Children.—‘O,’ says one, ‘I never felt the devil.’ I am sure thou mayest feel him now. Thou art dadda’s own child. Thou art speaking the very language of the devil; and he is teaching thee to deny thy own father. Graceless child of the devil, if thou hast never felt the devil’s fiery darts, it is because the devil is sure of thee. He has got thee into a damnable slumber. May the God of love awaken thee before real damnation comes!” (p. 262.)
“Persecution.—Our suffering times will be our best times. I know I had more comfort in Moorfields and on Kennington Common, especially when rotten eggs, cats, and dogs were thrown upon me,—I had more comfort in these burning bushes than I have had when I have been in ease. I remember when I was preaching at Exeter, and a stone made my forehead bleed, the word came with double power; and a labourer, wounded at the same time by another stone, came to me and said. ‘The man gave me a wound, but Jesus healed me; I never had my bonds broken till my head was’” (p. 268).
“Penitents.—I have reason to believe, from the notes put up at both ends of the town, that many of you have arrows of conviction stuck fast in your souls. I have taken in near two hundred, at Tottenham Court Road, within a fortnight. God is thus at work. Let the devil roar; we will go on in the name of the Lord” (p. 280).
“Self-condemnation.—I wish I could make you all angry. I am a sad mischief-maker; but I don’t want to make you angry with one another. Some people, who profess to have grace in their hearts, seem resolved to set all God’s people at variance. They are like Samson’s foxes with firebrands in their tails, setting fire to all about them. Are any of you come from the Foundery, or any other place, to-night? I care not where youcome from. I pray God you may all quarrel; that is, I want you to fall out with your own hearts” (p. 289).
“Baptismal Controversy.—It is a strange thing how bigots can set the world on fire by throwing water at one another; and that people cannot be baptized, without shewing that the chief thing they have been baptized into, are the waters of strife. This is making sport for the devil. For my part, I do not enter into the debate about infant or adult baptism, nor yet about its mode. I believe you might as well attempt to draw two parallel lines, and bring them to meet at some certain place, as to bring these learned combatants together; for, of all disputants, religious disputants are the most obstinate and fiery” (p. 297).
“Catholicity.—The world pretty well knows the temper of my mind, both in respect to politics and church-government. I am a professed avower of moderation. I don’t care whether you go to church or meeting. I profess to be a member of the Church of England; but, if they will not let me preach in a church, I will preach anywhere. All the world is my parish; and I will preach wherever God gives me an opportunity. You will never find me disputing about the outward appendages of religion. Don’t tell me you are a Baptist, an Independent, a Presbyterian, a Dissenter: tell me you are a Christian. That is all I want. This is the religion of heaven, and must be ours upon earth” (p. 310).
“Whitefield’s Salary.—I intend to give you a parting word on Sunday evening, and to take my last farewell in the ensuing week, for I must have a day or two to dispatch my private business. As this place has been repaired, and I am wishful to leave everything clear before I go, a collection must be made for defraying the expense incurred. The world thinks I am very rich. A man, the other day, sent me word, that, if I did not lay £30 in a certain place, I should be killed. You yourselves, perhaps, think I get a great deal for preaching here; and, therefore, now that I am going away, I will tell you my stated allowance for preaching at the Tabernacle. I have no more from this place than £100 a year; and, yet, when I asked last night how the accounts stood, I was told there were £50 arrears. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘ungrateful as it is to me, I will make a collection, that all may be left free.’ There are not six people in this Tabernacle from whom I have had the value of a guinea from last January to the present month of August; nor have I had a guinea from all the ordinances of the place towards bearing the expenses of my voyage” (p. 372).
These Whitefieldiana might easily be multiplied, but sufficient have been given to shew the familiar, and (as some will think) the objectionable style used by Whitefield at the close of his public ministry. His sermons now, as compared with those he published at the commencement of his career, were notably inferior. As compared with the sermons preached and printed by Wesley, they were a perfect contrast. They were neither scriptural expositions nordoctrinal disquisitions; but free and easy talk, intermixed with anecdotes, personal reminiscences, and quaint quotations. Matthew Henry’s Exposition was Whitefield’s favourite Commentary; and to this circumstance Wesley attributed the quaintness of Whitefield’s style. In the preface to his “Explanatory Notes upon the Old Testament,” published in 1765, Wesley, with an obvious reference to Whitefield, says:—
“I omit” (in these Notes) “abundance of Mr. Henry’s quaint sayings and lively antitheses; as, ‘God feeds His birds. Shall He not feed His babes?’ I used once to wonder, whence some, whom I greatly esteem, had so many pretty turns in preaching. But when I read Mr. Henry, my wonder ceased. I saw they were only copying after him: although probably without designing it. They generally consulted his exposition of their text, and frequently just before preaching. And, hence, little witticisms and a kind of archness insensibly stole upon them, and took the place of that strong, manly eloquence, which they would otherwise have learned from the inspired writers.”