It is a fact of great importance, and which must always be borne in mind, that, notwithstanding the excitement in which he lived, Whitefield habitually cultivated his own personal religion. The following extracts from letters, written at this period, beautifully illustrate this momentous matter.
His old friend, the Rev. Benjamin Ingham, by his powerful preaching, had formed fifty Religious Societies in Yorkshire and Lancashire, and had recently placed them under the care of Moravian ministers. Whitefield now wrote to him as follows:—
“London, December 21, 1742.
“To-day, I dined with old Mr. F——, and was kindly entertained by him and his wife. I remembered what sweet counsel you and I had taken there together; and I rejoiced in the happy prospect of our being, before long, with our blessed and glorious Lord. My brother, what has our Saviour done for us since that time? What is He doing now? What did He do before time began? What will He do when time shall be nomore? O how sweet it is to be melted down with a sense of redeeming love! O to be always kept low at the feet of Jesus! It is right, my brother, to insist on poverty of spirit. I know what a dreadful thing it is to carry much sail without proper ballast. Joy, floating upon the surface of an unmortified heart, is but of short continuance. It puffs up, but does not edify. I thank our Saviour, that He is shewing us here more of our hearts and more of His love. I doubt not but He deals so with you.I heartily greet your dear household,[34] and your Societies. If our Saviour gave me leave, I would gladly come to Yorkshire; but the cloud points towards Georgia.”
Colonel Gardiner was still with his regiment in Flanders, and to him Whitefield wrote the following:—
“London, December 21, 1742.
“Honoured Sir,—Your kind letter put me in mind of righteous Lot, whose soul was grieved, day by day, at the ungodly conversation of the wicked. It was the same with holy David. His eyes, like yours, gushed out with water, because men kept not God’s law. Your situation and employment cannot be very agreeable to a disciple of the Prince of Peace. I cannot say, I would change posts. Indeed, honoured sir, I think mine is a glorious employ. I am not ashamed of my Master, though my Master may well be ashamed of me. I know no other reason why Jesus has put me into the ministry, than because I am the chief of sinners, and, therefore, fittest to preach free grace to a world lying in the wicked one. Blessed be God! He gives much success. I am often ashamed that I can do no more for that Jesus who has redeemed me by His own most precious blood. O that I could lie lower! Then should I rise higher. Could I take deeper root downwards, I should bear more fruit upwards. I want to be poor in spirit. I want to be meek and lowly in heart. I want to have the whole mind that was in Christ. O that my heart were Christ’s library! I would not have one thief to lodge in my Redeemer’s temple.”
To a titled lady in Scotland, he wrote:—
“London, December 23, 1742.
“The Lord empties before He fills; humbles before He exalts. At least, He is pleased to deal thus with me. I thank Him for it, from my inmost soul; for were it not so, His mercies would destroy us. When I discover a new corruption, I am as thankful as a sentinel, keeping watch in a garrison, would be at spying a straggling enemy come near him. I stand not fighting with it in my own strength, but run immediately and tell the Captain of my salvation. By the sword of the Spirit, He soon destroys it. This is what I call a simple looking to Christ. I know of no other effectual way of keeping the old man down. Look up then, dear madam, to a wounded Saviour. Tell Him your whole heart. Go to Him as a little child. He will hear your lisping, and set your soul at liberty.”