ONG, long ago, before all this happened that I have been telling you, there was a forest near Bristol where the kings of England used to hunt, Kingswood it was called. But at the time of which I write, most of the trees had been cut down; a great many coal mines had been dug, and the people who lived round about and worked in the mines were a wild and wicked lot. They had no churches, and those in Bristol were three or four miles away.
Surely, Mr. Whitefield thought, these people ought to have the gospel of Jesus Christ preached to them; they have no church, it cannot be wrong to preach to them in the open air. So, one Saturday in this year, 1739, Mr. Whitefield set off to Kingswood. It was a cold winter's day, but his heart was warm inside with love for these poor neglected colliers, and he soon got warm outside with his long walk.
When he reached Kingswood he found an open space called Rose Green, which he thought was just the place for a service. Standing on a little mound which did for a pulpit, he commenced to preach; and surely that was the grandest church in which a Methodist minister ever held a service. The blue sky of heaven was his roof, the green grass beneath him the floor; and as Mr. Whitefield stood in his FIRST FIELD PULPIT, his thoughts went back, down the ages, to the dear Master whose steps he was seeking to follow—the Preacher of Nazareth, whose pulpit was the mountain-side, and whose hearers were the publicans and sinners. Two hundred grimy colliers stood and listened to that earnest young preacher.
Mr. Whitefield continued his visits to Kingswood; the second time, instead of two hundred there were 2,000 eager listeners. The next time over 4,000 came to hear; and so the numbers went on increasing until he had a congregation of 20,000.
Once, after he had been preaching, he wrote this: "The trees and the hedges were all in full leaf, and the sun was shining brightly. All the people were silent and still, and God helped me to speak in such a loud voice that everybody could hear me. All in the surrounding fields were thousands and thousands of people, some in coaches and some on horseback, while many had climbed up into the trees to see and hear."
As Mr. Whitefield preached, nearly all were in tears. Many of the men had come straight from the coal-pits, and the tears that trickled down their cheeks made little white gutters on their grimy faces. Then, in the gathering twilight, they sang the closing hymn, and when the last echoes died away in the deepening shadows, Mr. Whitefield felt how solemn it all was, and he, too, could hardly keep back the tears.
Mr. Whitefield soon found there was more work at Kingswood than he could do alone, so he wrote and asked Mr. John Wesley to come and help him. Being very proper sort of clergymen, John and Charles Wesley could not help thinking it a dreadful, and almost a wrong thing to preach anywhere but in a church, or, at any rate, in a room; and for some time they could not decide what to do.
They asked the other members at Fetter Lane what they thought about it; some said Mr. John ought to go, and some said he ought not. So at last they decided to draw lots. You know what that is, don't you? If you look in your Bible, in Acts i. 26, you will see that the disciples drew lots when they wanted to make up their number to twelve, after wicked Judas had killed himself. And in John xix. 24, you can read how the soldiers cast lots for the coat that had belonged to Jesus, which they took away after they had crucified Him. And in many other places in the Bible we read about people casting lots.
So the society at Fetter Lane cast lots, and it came out that Mr. John Wesley should go. Everybody was satisfied after this, and even Mr. Charles, who more than any of the others had objected, now felt that it was right. So Mr. John set off for Bristol and joined his friend.
The first Sunday he was there he heard Mr. Whitefield preach in the open air, and this is what he wrote about it: "It seemed such a strange thing to preach in the fields, when all my life I had believed in everything being done properly and according to the rules of the Church. Indeed, I should have thought it almost a sin to preach anywhere else."