“Our Lord has been giving us blessings in drops; but now He is sending them in showers. We have had a most precious meeting this morning. Perhaps more good has been done by this one sermon, than by all I have preached before. The wind is yet against us. Our Lord detains me here for wise reasons. Some persons, formerly prejudiced against me, have offered to give me a piece of ground for a Society room. I believe one will be built soon. Brother Cennick must stay in the west some time.”
“Plymouth, August 3, 1744.
“Our convoy is come, and perhaps we may sail to-morrow. It is delightful to be here. We come from the dock, in the evenings, singing and praising God. Our parting there has been more awful than words can express.
“I must tell you one thing more. There is a ferry over to Plymouth; and the ferrymen are now so much my friends, that they will take nothing of the multitude that come to hear me preach, saying, ‘God forbid that we should sell the word of God!’”
Thus, at Plymouth, as in other places, did Whitefield triumph in Christ Jesus. One of the conversions, which took place under his marvellous ministry, is too notable to pass unnoticed. Henry Tanner, born at Exeter, was now in the twenty-sixth year of his age, and was working, at Plymouth, as a shipwright. One day, while at work, he heard, from a considerable distance, the voice of Whitefield, who was preaching in the open air; and, concluding that the man was mad, he and half a dozen of his companions filled their pockets with stones, and set off to knock the preacher down. Whitefield’s text was Acts xvii. 19, 20. Tanner listened with astonishment; and, without using his stones, went home, determined to hear him again next evening. The text, on this occasion, was Luke xxiv. 47; and Tanner was in such an agony of soul, that he was forced to cry, “God be merciful to me a sinner!” The next night, while Whitefield was preaching on “Jacob’s Ladder,” Tanner found peace with God. He, at once, joined the Society at Plymouth, which had been formed by Whitefield, and suffered violent persecution from his unconverted wife. To secure time for prayer and Christian usefulness, he seldom allowed himself more than six hours in bed, and frequently but four. Ten years after his conversion, he removed to Exeter, and began to preach with great success. In 1769, the Tabernacle at Exeter was built, mainly through his exertions, and he became its minister. His labours, however, were not confined to Exeter. At the request of Toplady, he used to preach at Broad Hembury; whilst Moreton, Hampstead, Crediton, Topsham, and various other places, were favoured with his services. On Sunday morning, March 24, 1805, when he had completed the eighty-sixth year of his age, he was carried, in a chair, to his pulpit, and tried to preach, butwas so ill that he was obliged to relinquish the attempt.A week afterwards he peacefully expired.[100]
While, however, God was raising up new labourers, by means of Whitefield’s ministry, He was taking others to Himself. One of these was the Rev. David Crossly, of Manchester, who, within a week of the time when Whitefield embarked at Plymouth for America, wrote as follows to Whitefield’s friend, Mr. Syms:—
“Manchester, August 3, 1744.
“How glad I am to hear of Mr. Whitefield’s success in the service of his God. O happy Mr. Whitefield! His unparalleled labours, with answerable success, make his life a continued miracle. For a month past, I have been nigh unto death. My life is generally despaired of; and the Lord seems to be preparing the way for it, first, by a flow of converts, above twenty having been added to us during the last two months; and, secondly, by raising up several with very useful gifts; so that I am ready to say, ‘Lord, now let Thy servant depart in peace! Let me, O Lord, come above to the palm-bearing company! Fifty-five years have I been in the work, a poor weakling, yet crowned, by Thy blessing, with success.’
“As to Mr. Whitefield’s Preface to my Sermon,[101] I give a thousand thanks to him.It is his goodness, not my deserts, that has placed his valuable name before any performance of mine.”[102]
A month after the date of this letter, good old David Crossly was gone. “I am ready for the Bridegroom,” he cried;“I know my Redeemer liveth;” with the utterance of which he triumphantly expired.[103]