Another gentleman, who was present, wrote:—
“Mr. Whitefield rose, and stood erect, and his appearance alone was a powerful sermon. He remained several minutes unable to speak; and then said, ‘I will wait for the gracious assistance of God; for He will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in His name.’ He then delivered, perhaps, one of his best sermons. ‘I go,’ he cried, ‘I go to rest prepared; my sun has arisen, and by aid from heaven, has given light to many. It is now about to set for—no, it is about to rise to the zenith of immortalglory. I have outlived many on earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Oh, thought divine! I soon shall be in a world where time, age, pain, and sorrow are unknown. My body fails, my spirit expands. How willingly would I live for ever to preach Christ! But I die to be with Him.’”[671]
Whitefield’s sermon was two hours in length,—characteristic of the man, but, in his present health, quite enough to kill him.
The Rev. Jonathan Parsons, who, for the last twenty-four years, had been the Presbyterian minister at Newbury Port, met him at Exeter. In piety, the two were kindred spirits. Mr. Parsons’ congregation was one of the largest in America. As a preacher, he was eminently useful; his imagination was rich, and his voice clear and commanding. He was well skilled in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages; and many were the seals of his faithful ministry, which closed six years after that of his friend Whitefield’s.
After Whitefield’s enormous sermon, the two friends dined at Captain Gillman’s, and then started for Newbury Port. On arriving there, Whitefield was so exhausted, that he was unable to leave the boat without assistance, but, in the course of the evening, he recovered his spirits.[672]
Newbury Port was an ordinary New England village; in fact, it remains such at the present day,—its streets narrow, and not overcrowded with either traffic or passengers.[673] It is a remarkable coincidence, that, exactly thirty years before his death, Whitefield, for the first time, visited the place which contains his sepulchre. In his Journal, he wrote:—
“Tuesday, September 30, 1740. Preached at Ipswich in the morning to many thousands. There was a great melting in the congregation. Dined. Set out for Newbury, another town twelve miles from Ipswich, and arrived about three. Here again the power of the Lord accompanied the word. The meeting-house was very large. Many ministers were present, and the people were greatly affected. Blessed be God!”
Little did the great preacher think, that, on the same day, thirty years afterwards, his work would terminate in themeeting-house’s manse. The venerable building still stands, in a narrow lane, and, though now used as two comfortable residences, the spacious entrance hall yet exists, and likewise the fine oak staircase which led to the room in which Whitefield died.[674]
While Whitefield partook of an early supper, the people assembled at the front of the parsonage, and even crowded into its hall, impatient to hear a few words from the man they so greatly loved. “I am tired,” said Whitefield, “and must go to bed.” He took a candle, and was hastening to his chamber. The sight of the people moved him; and, pausing on the staircase, he began to speak to them. He had preached his last sermon; this was to be his last exhortation. There he stood, the crowd in the hall “gazing up at him with tearful eyes, as Elisha at the ascending prophet. His voice flowed on until the candle which he held in his hand burned away and went out in its socket! The next morning he was not, for God had taken him!”[675]
Mr. Richard Smith, who had accompanied Whitefield from England, and had attended him in his journeyings, followed him to his chamber. He found him reading the Bible, and with Dr. Watts’s Psalms before him. Whitefield drank some water-gruel, knelt by his bedside, engaged in prayer, and then went to rest. He slept till two in the morning, when he asked for cider, and drank a wine-glassful.