“Savannah, April 24, 1770. Five in the morning. I am just going into the boat, in order to embark for Philadelphia. This will prove a blessed year for me, at the day of judgment. Hallelujah! Come, Lord, come! Mr. Robert Wright is a quiet, ingenuous, good creature, and his wife an excellent mistress of the family. Such a set of helpers I never met with. They will go on with the buildings, while I take my gospel range to the northward.”
Whitefield had now left his beloved Bethesda for ever. He arrived in Philadelphia on Sunday, the 6th of May, and met with the missionaries of his old friend Wesley, Messrs. Boardman and Pilmoor, whom he encouraged to proceed to their arduous work.[663] Writing to Mr. Keen, he says:—
“Philadelphia, May 9, 1770. I arrived here on the 6th instant. The evening following, I was enabled to preach to a large auditory, and am to repeat the delightful task this evening. Pulpits and hearts seem to be as open to me as ever. Praise the Lord, O our souls! I have my old plan in view, to travel in these northern parts all summer, and return late in the fall to Georgia. Through infinite mercy, I continue in good health, and am more and more in love with a pilgrim life.”
“Philadelphia, May 24, 1770. I have now been here nearly three weeks. People of all ranks flock as much as ever. Impressions are made on many, and, I trust, they will abide. To all the Episcopal Churches, as well as to most of the other places of worship, I have free access. My health is preserved; and, though I preach twice on the Lord’s-day, and three or four times a week besides, I am rather better than I have been for many years. This is the Lord’s doing. To Him be all the glory!”
Three weeks after this, Whitefield wrote again to Mr. Keen:—
“Philadelphia, June 14, 1770. I have just returned from a hundred and fifty miles’ circuit, in which I have been enabled to preach every day. So many new, as well as old, doors are open, and so many invitations sent from various quarters, that I know not which way to turn myself. However, at present I am bound for New York, and so on further northward.”
He arrived at New York on Saturday, June 23, and, in another letter to Mr. Keen, remarked:—
“New York, June 30, 1770. I have been here just a week. Have been enabled to preach four times, and am to preach again this evening. Congregations are larger than ever. Next week, I purpose to go to Albany: from thence, perhaps, to the Oneida Indians. There is to be a very large Indian congress. Mr. Kirkland accompanies me. He is a truly Christian minister and missionary. Everything possible should be done to strengthen his hands and his heart.”
A word must be interposed respecting this valuable man. Samuel Kirkland had been educated in Dr. Wheelock’s school, and in New Jersey College. While at school, he hadlearned the language of the Mohawks; and, in 1764, commenced a journey to the Senecas, among whom he spent a year and a half. In 1766, he was ordained a missionary to the Indians; and, in 1769, removed with his wife to the Oneida tribe, for whose benefit he laboured more than forty years. His son, Dr. Kirkland, became president of Harvard College. No wonder Whitefield fell in love with such a man. Unfortunately, no record of his visit to the “Indian congress” now exists; but an idea of his enormous labours may be gathered from the following letter to Mr. Keen:—
“New York, July 29, 1770. During this month, I have been above a five hundred miles’ circuit, and have been enabled to preach every day. The congregations have been very large, attentive, and affected, particularly at Albany, Schenectady, Great Barrington, Norfolk, Salisbury, Sharon, Smithfield, Powkeepsy, Fishkill, New Rumburt, New Windsor, and Peckshill. Last night, I returned hither, and hope to set out for Boston in two or three days. O what a new scene of usefulness is opening in various parts of this new world! All fresh work where I have been. The Divine influence has been as at the first. Invitations crowd upon me, both from ministers and people, from many, many quarters. A very peculiar providence led me lately to a place where a horse-stealer was executed. Thousands attended. The poor criminal, hearing I was in the country, had sent me several letters. The sheriff allowed him to come and hear a sermon under an adjacent tree. Solemn! solemn! After being by himself about an hour, I walked half a mile with him to the gallows. His heart had been softened before my first visit. He seemed full of Divine consolations. An instructive walk! I went up with him into the cart. He gave a short exhortation. I then stood upon the coffin; added, I trust, a word in season; prayed; gave the blessing; and took my leave. I hope effectual good was done to the hearers and spectators.”