Kilsyth, a small town, about twelve miles from Glasgow, was another place graciously visited by God’s good Spirit. Its minister, the Rev. James Robe, began a series of sermons on the new birth, as early as the year 1740; but nothing remarkable occurred until May, 1742, the month when Whitefield set out on his second visit to Scotland. At the beginning of the month, “societies for prayer were erected in the parish;” and, almost immediately, great numbers began to cry aloud for mercy. On May 16, after dismissinghis congregation, Mr. Robe invited the penitents into his barn; but the numbers were so great, that the barn could not contain them: and, nolens volens, he was obliged to convene them in his kirk. He says, “I sung a psalm, and prayed with them; but, when I essayed to speak to them, I could not be heard, such were their bitter cries and groans. After this, I ordered that they should be brought to me in my closet, one by one; and, in the meantime, I appointed psalms to be sung with those in the kirk, and that the precentor and two or three of the elders should pray with the distressed.” Before the month ended,—that is, before Whitefield had arrived in Scotland,—the penitents at Kilsyth numbered nearly a hundred;and a similar work was begun, and was spreading in several neighbouring parishes, as Kirkintilloch, Auchinloch, Campsie, and Cumbernauld.[3] Such was the state of things, in this part of Scotland, when Whitefield and his wife reached Edinburgh, on Thursday, June 3, 1742.
One of his first letters, at Edinburgh, was addressed to Lord Rae, the death of whose wife had recently occurred. An extract from it will help to shew the spirit in which Whitefield began his work in Scotland.
“Edinburgh, June 4, 1742.
“My Lord,—Your lordship’s kind letter was put into my hands yesterday. I heartily sympathise with you; but could not help rejoicing on your honoured lady’s account, knowing she is now entered into her blessed Master’s joy. Among Christians, death has not only lost its sting, but its name. I never was so joyful as I am now at the death of those who die in the Lord; and never was so reconciled to living myself. Lately, in London, we had a sister in Christ, whose last words were, ‘Holy, holy, holy.’ She could say no more here; but our Saviour sent for her to finish her song in heaven. I preached over her corpse; our Society attended; and surely never did any triumph over death more than we did that night. But your lordship may ask, ‘Why are you reconciled to life?’ Because I can do that for Jesus on earth, which I cannot do in heaven: I mean, be made instrumental in bringing weary, heavy-laden sinners to find rest in His blood and righteousness. If our Saviour were to offer either to take me now, or to let me stay only to take one sinner more, I would desire to stay to take the sinner with me.
“I hear of wonderful things in Scotland. I can only fall down and worship. I have seen greater things than ever in England. I expect tosee far greater in Scotland. Our Lord will not let His people be disappointed of their hopes.”
Whitefield was in Edinburgh, but where was he to preach? The question was soon solved. The following minute was passed at a meeting of the managers of Heriot’s Hospital, held on June 17, 1742: “The managers agree to erect seats in the Hospital Park for about two thousand people, part of which are to be covered with shades, and let out to the best advantage. It is further agreed, that, out of the profits arising from these seats, after paying all charges anent the same, a sum not exceeding £60 sterling shall be given to the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield,for defraying his charges during his continuance in this country.”[4] The seats, thus erected, were semicircular in form; those with shades were let at three shillings each for the season; and those without shades might be used by paying a halfpenny each for them, every time they were occupied. A few seats outside the railing were free; and the back seats within were permitted to be used by soldiers gratuitously. The money thus raised seems to have amounted to £260 3s., which was distributed as follows: For erecting seats, £80 4s.; for repairing the “park dikes,” £28 5s.; payment to the tacksman of the park for damage done to the grass, £4 10s.; gift to Whitefield, £60;balance paid to the treasurer of the hospital, £87 4s.[5] Such was Whitefield’s cathedral in the metropolis of Scotland.
From the day of his arrival, he preached twice daily, expounded almost every night,and regularly visited the three hospitals.[6] On the 12th of June, in writing to his helper, John Cennick, he remarked: “Our Saviour deals most lovingly with me. I never enjoyed so much happiness in Him as now. Day and night, He is pleased to shine upon my soul. My success here is great. I am enabled to ‘be instant in season, and out of season,’ and to‘reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with all longsuffering and doctrine.’”[7]
Of course, a little time was requisite to erect Whitefield’s open-air church; and hence, after spending twelve days inEdinburgh, he set out, on June 15, to Kilsyth, Cambuslang, and other places, in the west of Scotland. Previous to starting, he wrote, as follows, to the Rev. William McCulloch, minister at Cambuslang:—
“Edinburgh, June 8, 1742.
“Reverend and very dear Brother,—I heartily rejoice at the awakening at Cambuslang and elsewhere. I believe you will both see and hear far greater things than these. I trust, that, not one corner of poor Scotland will be left unwatered by the dew of God’s heavenly blessing. The cloud is now only rising as big as a man’s hand: in a little while, we shall hear a sound of an abundance of gospel rain. God willing, I hope to be with you at the beginning of next week.”