Chapter 37

“1769. Monday, January 9. I spent a comfortable and profitable hour withMr.Whitefield, in calling to mind the former times, and the manner wherein God prepared us for a work which it had not then entered into our hearts to conceive.”And again:—“Monday, February 27. I had one more agreeable conversation with my old friend and fellow-labourer, George Whitefield. His soul appeared to be vigorous still, but his body was sinking apace; and, unless God interposes with His mighty hand, he must soon finish hislabours.”620Comparatively speaking, these three months were a time of inaction; and yet, to Whitefield and others, they were a time of great enjoyment. Lady Huntingdon was now in London, and, at her residence in Portland Row, Cavendish Square, there were delightful re-unions of Methodist clergymen. Whitefield, the two Wesleys, Romaine, Venn, and others, were often assembled there, for preaching, sacramental administration, and Christian fellowship. On the10thof January, Whitefield administered the sacrament, and Wesley preached on, “By grace are ye saved, through faith.” A week afterwards, Romaine administered the Lord’s Supper, and Whitefield preached. On February 28, Whitefield was present, but wholly unable to take any active part in the services of the day. TheRev.Messrs.Green and Elliott administered the sacrament and Romaine preached. Sometimes Venn administered, and at others preached. When he was able, Whitefield would preach in her ladyship’s drawing-room on several days successively. At the last meeting, previous to the Countess leaving London, Charles Wesley exhorted all present to “stand fast in one mind and in one judgment;” Romaine administered the Lord’s Supper; Venn and Whitefield prayed; and all sang the glorious doxology, “Praise God, from whom all blessingsflow.”621By the month of March, Whitefield’s health was considerably improved. In letters, addressed to his old friend, Thomas Adams, he wrote:—“London, March 11, 1769. My very dear Tommy. Through infinite mercy, I am enabled to preach thrice a week, besides engaging in other occasional exercises. The shout of the King of kings is amongst us. After Easter, I hope to make an elopement to Gloucestershire, and some western parts. I feel the loss of my righthand622daily; but right hands and right eyes must be parted with for Him, who ordereth all things well.”“London, March 31, 1769. Through infinite mercy, I have been enabled to preach four days successively. We have been favoured with a blessed Passover season: all to make us shout louder, ‘Grace! Grace!’”Whitefield still longed to get away to his beloved Bethesda. On March 17, he wrote toMr.Dixon, his manager there:—“I am every day, every hour, almost every moment, thinking of, and preparing for America. A pilgrim life to me is the sweetest on this side eternity.” No wonder that Whitefield wished to be at his Orphan House. He had sent workmen to erect the new buildings already mentioned, and, only eight days after the date of this letter toMr.Dixon, the foundation stones were laid with as much ceremonial pomp as the colony of Georgia could contribute. Hence the following letter, dated “Savannah, in Georgia, March 29, 1769,” and published inLloyd’s Evening Post, of June 2:—“TheRev.Mr.George Whitefield having sent over proper workmen to erect the necessary additional buildings for the intended Academy at the Orphan House, on Saturday last, being the anniversary of laying the foundation of that house in the year 1739, his Excellency, the Governor, attended by most of the members of the Honourable Council and a great number of other gentlemen, after the service of church was performed, and a sermon preached by theRev.Mr.Samuel Frink, Rector of Christ Church parish, laid the foundation of both the intended wings; and the whole company, being entertained at dinner in a plentiful and decent manner, returned to their habitations seemingly much pleased with the occasion of their meeting, and their treatment there. From this beginning, we have the most sanguine hopes, that, in a short time, we shall enjoy the advantage of educating our youth within ourselves; a benefit we have, in a great measure, been deprived of, for want of such an establishment.”Early in April, Whitefield set out to Bath, on a visit to the Countess of Huntingdon. Here and in the neighbourhood, he spent a month, preaching at a large number of places, to most of which he was accompanied by her ladyship, and by Lady AnneErskine.623Bath and Bristol were the chief scenes of action; but he had “a good field-preaching at Kingswood;” had “a blessed day in Bradfordchurch;” and also another in “the fields at Frome, where thousands attended.” He had “golden seasons” at Chippenham, Castle-Combe, Dursley, Rodborough, Painswick, Gloucester,and Cheltenham. On his way back to London, he wrote, to Captain Joss:—“Rodborough, Thursday, May 11, 1769. Ebenezer! Ebenezer! Blessed seasons at Chippenham, Castle-Combe, and Dursley, in our way from Frome. Have been enabled to preach five times this week. It is good to go into the highways and hedges. Field-preaching, field-preaching for ever!”A week after this, he was in London, and wrote to Thomas Adams, at Rodborough, in the most jubilant strain:—“London, Thursday, May 18, 1769. My very dear old friend. On Monday we reached Letchlade, on Tuesday Maidenhead, and yesterday London. Never was Rodborough so endeared to me, as at this last visit. Old friends, old gospel wine, and the great Governor ordering to fill to the brim!‘O to grace what mighty debtors!’“If we should die singing that hymn, what then? Why, then, welcome, welcome eternity! Christ’s grace will be sufficient for us. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”The next three months were chiefly spent in London. Whitefield complained of a “hoarseness, gotten in the highways and hedges;” but he was as full of holy buoyancy as ever. He had now determined to sail for America, and began to make the necessary preparations for his voyage. He bought “Osnaburg linen,” for his negroes; he begged maps and books for his Bethesda Institution; and, in thanking his friendMr.Keen for a benefaction to his Orphanage, wrote: “Our Lord will write Himself your debtor for it. His interest is pretty good—‘a hundredfold.’ A hundredfold! What can the most avaricious trader desire more?”One of his last public services was the opening of the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel at Tunbridge Wells. This took place on Sunday, July 23. The Countess, Lady Anne Erskine, Lady Buchan, and Miss Orton went withhim.624Early in the morning, a large number of persons assembled at the front of Lady Huntingdon’s residence, and, in the open air, sang hymns and prayed, till the time announced for the commencement of public service in the chapel. “Never,” said her ladyship, “can I forget the sensations of pleasure I felt, on being awoke by the voice of praise andthanksgiving.” The chapel, of course, was thronged. De Courcy read the prayers of the Established Church; and, then, a large crowd not being able to get inside the chapel, Whitefield came out, followed by those who had joined in the reading of the liturgy, and preached to the assembled thousands, from “How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate ofheaven.”625The sermon was said to be “a perfect piece of oratory.” “Look yonder!” cried the preacher, as he stretched out his hands “Look yonder! What is that I see? It is my agonizing Lord! Hark! hark! hark! Do not you hear? O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord!” Simple words, but producing effects which cannot be described. In connection with these and all Whitefield’s utterances, the reader must bear in mind that Whitefield’s face was language, his intonation music, and his action passion. Garrick used to say of him, that, he could make men weep or tremble by his varied pronunciation of the word “Mesopotamia.” This was an exaggeration; but it expressed the opinion of the greatest of theatrical orators concerning the power of Whitefield’s eloquence.The day at Tunbridge Wells, a hundred and seven years ago, was probably one of the most remarkable in the history of that resort of fashionable gaiety. After Whitefield’s sermon, the sacrament of the Lord’s supper was administered, at which four clergymen attended, besides Whitefield himself. During the day, three of these clergymen, at three different times, preached to the assembled multitudes, from a small mount raised for that purpose at the front of thechapel.626One of these was Richard deCourcy,627the fervid young Irishman, already mentioned, and whose talent and eloquence made him immensely popular. The chapel itself, saidLloyd’s EveningPost628, “has been inspected by some ingenious artists, and is looked upon to be the most completepiece of Gothic architecture that has been constructed for many years!”Whitefield’s days in England were now nearly ended. In a letter to Captain Joss, dated “Tottenham Court, August 9, 1769,” he wrote:—“My hands and heart are full. Last night, I went on board theFriendship. The captain is to dine with me to-morrow. I expect to sail the first week in September. You must then be intown.629Mr.Brooksbanks will supply your place. I hope all things will be settled on a right plan. I have the greatest confidence in you. I only wish some means may be found to save the late great expense of coach hire. It has mounted very high.”In another letter, dated ten days later, and addressed toMr.Adams, Whitefield wrote:—“My very dear Tommy, talk not of taking a personal leave. You know my make. Paul could stand awhipping, but not aweepingfarewell. Many thanks for your intended present. God bless you and yours! God bless all our never-to-be-forgotten Gloucestershire friends! I can no more. Adieu! Cease not to pray for, my very dear steady old friend,“Less than the least of all,“George Whitefield.”Six days after this, on Friday night, August 25, Whitefield held one of his last sacramental services in England. This was in the Tabernacle, near Moorfields. Nearly two thousand communicants werepresent!630On the Sunday following, he preached his last sermon in Tottenham Court Road chapel. The text was, Genesisxxviii.12–15. A few extracts must be given. Besides the interest they possess as being among Whitefield’slast wordsin England, they will help to illustrate his style of preaching, when his work was nearly ended.“When we are travelling in the woods of America, we are obliged to light a fire; and that keeps off the beasts from us. I have often got up in the night, and said to them that were with me (and God forbid I should ever travel with any one, even a quarter of an hour, without speaking something of Jesus!)—‘This fire,’ said I, ‘is like the fire of God’s love, which keeps off the devil and our own lusts from hurting our souls.’“It comforts me much, I assure you, to think that, whenever God shallcall for me, angels will carry me into the bosom of Abraham; but it comforts me more to think, that, as soon as they lay hold of me, my first question to them will be, ‘Where is myMaster? Where is myJesus?’ And that, after all my tossings and tumblings here, I shall be brought to see His face at last.“It is now high time for me to preach my ownfuneral sermon. I am going, for the thirteenth time, to cross the Atlantic. When I came from America last, my health was so bad that I took leave of all friends on the continent, from one end to the other, without the least design of returning to them again. But, to my great surprise, God has been pleased to restore to me some measure of strength; and, though I intended to give up the Orphan House into other hands, God has so ordered it, that his Grace the late Archbishop of Canterbury refused me a charter, unless I would confine it to episcopacy. I could not, in honour, comply with this, as Dissenters, and other serious people of different denominations, had contributed towards its support. I would sooner cut off my head than betray my trust. I always meant the Orphan House to be kept upon a broad bottom, for people of all denominations. I hope, by the25thof March next, all intended alterations and additions will be completed, and a blessed provision be made for many hundreds; and a comfortable support for poor orphans and poor students. This is my only design in going. I intend to travel all along the continent. I am going in no public capacity. I am going trusting in God to bear my charges. I call heaven and earth to witness that I have never had the love of the world one quarter of an hour in my heart. I might have been rich; but now, though this chapel is built, and though I have a comfortable room to live in, I assure you I built the room at my own expense. It cost nobody but myself anything, and I shall leave it with an easy mind. I have thought of these words with pleasure, ‘I will bring thee again to this land.’ I know not whether that will be my experience; but, blessed be God! I have a better land in view. I do not look upon myself at home till I land in my Father’s house. My greatest trial is to part with those who are as dear to me as my own soul. O keep close to God, my dear London friends. I do not bid you keep close to chapel. You have always done that. I shall endeavour to keep up the word of God among you during my absence. I might have had a thousand a year out of this place, if I had chosen it. When I am gone to heaven, you will see what I have got on earth. I do not like to speak now, because it might be thoughtboasting.”631Whitefield’s lastsermon632in London was preached in theTabernacle, Moorfields, at seven o’clock on Wednesday morning,August 30.633The text he selected was, Johnx.27, 28. The sermon (if so it may be called) was earnest talk, incoherent, and, some would say, egotistic; but it was interspersed with characteristic sentences.“Sheep,” said Whitefield, “love to be together. They don’t love to be alone. You seldom see a sheep by itself; and Christ’s people may well be compared to them in this. Oh, think some, if we had great people on our side, the King, Lords, and Commons! What then? Alas! alas! Do you think the Church of God would go on a bit the better? No! no! Religion never prospers when it has too much sunshine.Dr.Marryat was not ashamed to preach inmarket language; and I once heard him say at Pinner’s Hall, ‘God has a great dog to fetch His sheep back when they wander.’ Yes, when God’s people wander, He sends the devil after them, and suffers him to bark at them; but instead of barking them further off, he only barks them back again to the fold of Christ.”In another part of his discourse, Whitefield, unnecessarily if not egotistically, stated that, before he was twenty-two years of age, he had the offer of two parishes, by Benson, Bishop of Gloucester; that, when he first came to London, most of the metropolitan churches were open to him; and that twelve or fourteen constables had to guard the doors of the churches where he preached. He then referred to his intention to turn the Orphan House into a College; and highly eulogisedMr.andMrs.Dixon, his “old servants” there, and also theMessrs.Wright andMr.Crane, whom he had sent out to execute the improvements and additions to the building. He concluded as follows:—“This is the thirteenth time of my crossing the mighty waters. It is a little difficult at this time of life; but I delight in the cause, and God fills me with a peace that is unutterable. I expect many trials while on board. Satan always meets me there; but God, I believe, will keep me. I thankGod, I have the honour of leaving everything quite well and easy at both ends of the town. If I am drowned, I will say, if I can, while I am drowning, ‘Lord, take care of my English friends!’ Some of you, I doubt not, will be gone to Christ before my return; but, though parted, it will be to meet again for ever. God grant that none who weep now at my parting, may weep at our meeting at the day of judgment! Come, sinner, come, see what it is to have eternal life! Haste! haste! haste away to the great, the glorious Shepherd! I care not what shepherds you are under, so that you are kept near the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls. The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious unto you! The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace!”Such was Whitefield’s final benediction upon his Tabernacle congregation, on Wednesdaymorning, August 30. In point of fact, this was asecondfarewell sermon, in the same building; for, on the Wednesday night previous, he had addressed those of the congregation who were unable to attend a week-day morning service. His sermon, on that occasion, was, in all respects, superior to his final one. The text was, “And thy God thy glory” (Isaiahlx.19). He then made his last London collection.“The Tabernacle has been repaired,” said he; “and I wish to leave it unencumbered. I told my friends, I would make a collection. Remember, it is not for me, but for yourselves—for the place where you are to meet, when I am tossing on the water, and in a foreign clime. The arrears are nearly£70. I hope you will not run away. If you can say, God is my glory, you will not push one upon another, as though you would lose yourselves in a crowd, and say, Nobody sees me. Does not God Almighty see you? You must excuse me. I cannot say much more. I beg you will excuse me from a particular parting with you. Take my public farewell. I will pray for you when in the cabin; I will pray for you when tempests are about me; and this shall be my prayer, ‘O God, be Thou their God! and grant their God may be their glory!’”A few other extracts, from Whitefield’s last sermons in London, may be welcome. They are taken from the 8vo. volume, published by Gurney immediately after Whitefield’sdeath.634“The Devil’s Children.—‘O,’ says one, ‘I never felt the devil.’ I am sure thou mayest feel him now. Thou artdadda’sown child. Thou art speaking the very language of the devil; and he is teaching thee to deny thy own father. Graceless child of the devil, if thou hast never felt the devil’s fiery darts, it is because the devil is sure of thee. He has got thee into a damnable slumber. May the God of love awaken thee before real damnation comes!” (p.262.)“Persecution.—Our suffering times will be our best times. I know I had more comfort in Moorfields and on Kennington Common, especially when rotten eggs, cats, and dogs were thrown upon me,—I had more comfort in these burning bushes than I have had when I have been in ease. I remember when I was preaching at Exeter, and a stone made my forehead bleed, the word came with double power; and a labourer, wounded at the same time by another stone, came to me and said. ‘The man gave me a wound, but Jesus healed me; I never had my bonds broken till my head was’” (p.268).“Penitents.—I have reason to believe, from the notes put up at both ends of the town, that many of you have arrows of conviction stuck fast in your souls. I have taken in near two hundred, at Tottenham Court Road, within a fortnight. God is thus at work. Let the devil roar; we will go on in the name of the Lord” (p.280).“Self-condemnation.—I wish I could make you all angry. I am a sad mischief-maker; but I don’t want to make you angry with one another. Some people, who profess to have grace in their hearts, seem resolved to set all God’s people at variance. They are like Samson’s foxes with firebrands in their tails, setting fire to all about them. Are any of you come from the Foundery, or any other place, to-night? I care not where youcome from. I pray God you may all quarrel; that is, I want you to fall out with your own hearts” (p.289).“Baptismal Controversy.—It is a strange thing how bigots can set the world on fire by throwing water at one another; and that people cannot be baptized, without shewing that the chief thing they have been baptized into, are the waters of strife. This is making sport for the devil. For my part, I do not enter into the debate about infant or adult baptism, nor yet about its mode. I believe you might as well attempt to draw two parallel lines, and bring them to meet at some certain place, as to bring these learned combatants together; for, of all disputants, religious disputants are the most obstinate and fiery” (p.297).“Catholicity.—The world pretty well knows the temper of my mind, both in respect to politics and church-government. I am a professed avower of moderation. I don’t care whether you go to church or meeting. I profess to be a member of the Church of England; but, if they will not let me preach in a church, I will preach anywhere. All the world is my parish; and I will preach wherever God gives me an opportunity. You will never find me disputing about the outward appendages of religion. Don’t tell me you are a Baptist, an Independent, a Presbyterian, a Dissenter: tell me you are a Christian. That is all I want. This is the religion of heaven, and must be ours upon earth” (p.310).“Whitefield’s Salary.—I intend to give you a parting word on Sunday evening, and to take my last farewell in the ensuing week, for I must have a day or two to dispatch my private business. As this place has been repaired, and I am wishful to leave everything clear before I go, a collection must be made for defraying the expense incurred. The world thinks I am very rich. A man, the other day, sent me word, that, if I did not lay£30 in a certain place, I should be killed. You yourselves, perhaps, think I get a great deal for preaching here; and, therefore, now that I am going away, I will tell you my stated allowance for preaching at the Tabernacle. I have no more from this place than£100 a year; and, yet, when I asked last night how the accounts stood, I was told there were£50 arrears. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘ungrateful as it is to me, I will make a collection, that all may be left free.’ There are not six people in this Tabernacle from whom I have had the value of a guinea from last January to the present month of August; nor have I had a guinea from all the ordinances of the place towards bearing the expenses of my voyage” (p.372).TheseWhitefieldianamight easily be multiplied, but sufficient have been given to shew the familiar, and (as some will think) the objectionable style used by Whitefield at the close of his public ministry. His sermons now, as compared with those he published at the commencement of his career, were notably inferior. As compared with the sermons preached and printed by Wesley, they were a perfect contrast. They were neither scriptural expositions nordoctrinal disquisitions; but free and easy talk, intermixed with anecdotes, personal reminiscences, and quaint quotations. Matthew Henry’s Exposition was Whitefield’s favourite Commentary; and to this circumstance Wesley attributed the quaintness of Whitefield’s style. In the preface to his “Explanatory Notes upon the Old Testament,” published in 1765, Wesley, with an obvious reference to Whitefield, says:—“I omit” (in these Notes) “abundance ofMr.Henry’s quaint sayings and lively antitheses; as, ‘God feeds Hisbirds. Shall He not feed Hisbabes?’ I used once to wonder, whence some, whom I greatly esteem, had so many pretty turns in preaching. But when I readMr.Henry, my wonder ceased. I saw they were only copying after him: although probably without designing it. They generally consulted his exposition of their text, and frequently just before preaching. And, hence, little witticisms and a kind of archness insensibly stole upon them, and took the place of that strong, manly eloquence, which they would otherwise have learned from the inspired writers.”Two of Whitefield’slast sermons in Englandwere preached at Gravesend, on Sunday, September 3, 1769. Hence the following, taken fromSt.James’s Chronicle, for September 7: “On Saturday last, theRev.Mr.Whitefield went from town to Gravesend, where he preached, on Sunday morning, in the Methodist Tabernacle, and, in the evening, in the Market Place.” Whitefield himself writes:—“Sunday, September 3. Preached this morning at the Methodist Tabernacle, from Johnxii.32. The congregation was not very large, but God gave me great freedom of speech. In the afternoon, I preached in the Market Place, from Genesisiii.13, to a much larger, but not more devout auditory. In the outskirts, some were a little noisy, but most were very attentive, and I was enabled to lift up my voice like a trumpet. The evening was spent, as the night before, with my Christian friends from London.”“Monday, September 4. Had my dear Christian friends on board to breakfast with me this morning. Conversation was sweet, but parting bitter. However, I was helped to bear up; and, after their departure the Divine Presence made up the loss ofall.”635

And again:—

“Monday, February 27. I had one more agreeable conversation with my old friend and fellow-labourer, George Whitefield. His soul appeared to be vigorous still, but his body was sinking apace; and, unless God interposes with His mighty hand, he must soon finish hislabours.”620

Comparatively speaking, these three months were a time of inaction; and yet, to Whitefield and others, they were a time of great enjoyment. Lady Huntingdon was now in London, and, at her residence in Portland Row, Cavendish Square, there were delightful re-unions of Methodist clergymen. Whitefield, the two Wesleys, Romaine, Venn, and others, were often assembled there, for preaching, sacramental administration, and Christian fellowship. On the10thof January, Whitefield administered the sacrament, and Wesley preached on, “By grace are ye saved, through faith.” A week afterwards, Romaine administered the Lord’s Supper, and Whitefield preached. On February 28, Whitefield was present, but wholly unable to take any active part in the services of the day. TheRev.Messrs.Green and Elliott administered the sacrament and Romaine preached. Sometimes Venn administered, and at others preached. When he was able, Whitefield would preach in her ladyship’s drawing-room on several days successively. At the last meeting, previous to the Countess leaving London, Charles Wesley exhorted all present to “stand fast in one mind and in one judgment;” Romaine administered the Lord’s Supper; Venn and Whitefield prayed; and all sang the glorious doxology, “Praise God, from whom all blessingsflow.”621

By the month of March, Whitefield’s health was considerably improved. In letters, addressed to his old friend, Thomas Adams, he wrote:—

“London, March 11, 1769. My very dear Tommy. Through infinite mercy, I am enabled to preach thrice a week, besides engaging in other occasional exercises. The shout of the King of kings is amongst us. After Easter, I hope to make an elopement to Gloucestershire, and some western parts. I feel the loss of my righthand622daily; but right hands and right eyes must be parted with for Him, who ordereth all things well.”“London, March 31, 1769. Through infinite mercy, I have been enabled to preach four days successively. We have been favoured with a blessed Passover season: all to make us shout louder, ‘Grace! Grace!’”

“London, March 31, 1769. Through infinite mercy, I have been enabled to preach four days successively. We have been favoured with a blessed Passover season: all to make us shout louder, ‘Grace! Grace!’”

Whitefield still longed to get away to his beloved Bethesda. On March 17, he wrote toMr.Dixon, his manager there:—“I am every day, every hour, almost every moment, thinking of, and preparing for America. A pilgrim life to me is the sweetest on this side eternity.” No wonder that Whitefield wished to be at his Orphan House. He had sent workmen to erect the new buildings already mentioned, and, only eight days after the date of this letter toMr.Dixon, the foundation stones were laid with as much ceremonial pomp as the colony of Georgia could contribute. Hence the following letter, dated “Savannah, in Georgia, March 29, 1769,” and published inLloyd’s Evening Post, of June 2:—

“TheRev.Mr.George Whitefield having sent over proper workmen to erect the necessary additional buildings for the intended Academy at the Orphan House, on Saturday last, being the anniversary of laying the foundation of that house in the year 1739, his Excellency, the Governor, attended by most of the members of the Honourable Council and a great number of other gentlemen, after the service of church was performed, and a sermon preached by theRev.Mr.Samuel Frink, Rector of Christ Church parish, laid the foundation of both the intended wings; and the whole company, being entertained at dinner in a plentiful and decent manner, returned to their habitations seemingly much pleased with the occasion of their meeting, and their treatment there. From this beginning, we have the most sanguine hopes, that, in a short time, we shall enjoy the advantage of educating our youth within ourselves; a benefit we have, in a great measure, been deprived of, for want of such an establishment.”

Early in April, Whitefield set out to Bath, on a visit to the Countess of Huntingdon. Here and in the neighbourhood, he spent a month, preaching at a large number of places, to most of which he was accompanied by her ladyship, and by Lady AnneErskine.623Bath and Bristol were the chief scenes of action; but he had “a good field-preaching at Kingswood;” had “a blessed day in Bradfordchurch;” and also another in “the fields at Frome, where thousands attended.” He had “golden seasons” at Chippenham, Castle-Combe, Dursley, Rodborough, Painswick, Gloucester,and Cheltenham. On his way back to London, he wrote, to Captain Joss:—

“Rodborough, Thursday, May 11, 1769. Ebenezer! Ebenezer! Blessed seasons at Chippenham, Castle-Combe, and Dursley, in our way from Frome. Have been enabled to preach five times this week. It is good to go into the highways and hedges. Field-preaching, field-preaching for ever!”

A week after this, he was in London, and wrote to Thomas Adams, at Rodborough, in the most jubilant strain:—

“London, Thursday, May 18, 1769. My very dear old friend. On Monday we reached Letchlade, on Tuesday Maidenhead, and yesterday London. Never was Rodborough so endeared to me, as at this last visit. Old friends, old gospel wine, and the great Governor ordering to fill to the brim!‘O to grace what mighty debtors!’“If we should die singing that hymn, what then? Why, then, welcome, welcome eternity! Christ’s grace will be sufficient for us. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

‘O to grace what mighty debtors!’

“If we should die singing that hymn, what then? Why, then, welcome, welcome eternity! Christ’s grace will be sufficient for us. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

The next three months were chiefly spent in London. Whitefield complained of a “hoarseness, gotten in the highways and hedges;” but he was as full of holy buoyancy as ever. He had now determined to sail for America, and began to make the necessary preparations for his voyage. He bought “Osnaburg linen,” for his negroes; he begged maps and books for his Bethesda Institution; and, in thanking his friendMr.Keen for a benefaction to his Orphanage, wrote: “Our Lord will write Himself your debtor for it. His interest is pretty good—‘a hundredfold.’ A hundredfold! What can the most avaricious trader desire more?”

One of his last public services was the opening of the Countess of Huntingdon’s chapel at Tunbridge Wells. This took place on Sunday, July 23. The Countess, Lady Anne Erskine, Lady Buchan, and Miss Orton went withhim.624Early in the morning, a large number of persons assembled at the front of Lady Huntingdon’s residence, and, in the open air, sang hymns and prayed, till the time announced for the commencement of public service in the chapel. “Never,” said her ladyship, “can I forget the sensations of pleasure I felt, on being awoke by the voice of praise andthanksgiving.” The chapel, of course, was thronged. De Courcy read the prayers of the Established Church; and, then, a large crowd not being able to get inside the chapel, Whitefield came out, followed by those who had joined in the reading of the liturgy, and preached to the assembled thousands, from “How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate ofheaven.”625The sermon was said to be “a perfect piece of oratory.” “Look yonder!” cried the preacher, as he stretched out his hands “Look yonder! What is that I see? It is my agonizing Lord! Hark! hark! hark! Do not you hear? O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord!” Simple words, but producing effects which cannot be described. In connection with these and all Whitefield’s utterances, the reader must bear in mind that Whitefield’s face was language, his intonation music, and his action passion. Garrick used to say of him, that, he could make men weep or tremble by his varied pronunciation of the word “Mesopotamia.” This was an exaggeration; but it expressed the opinion of the greatest of theatrical orators concerning the power of Whitefield’s eloquence.

The day at Tunbridge Wells, a hundred and seven years ago, was probably one of the most remarkable in the history of that resort of fashionable gaiety. After Whitefield’s sermon, the sacrament of the Lord’s supper was administered, at which four clergymen attended, besides Whitefield himself. During the day, three of these clergymen, at three different times, preached to the assembled multitudes, from a small mount raised for that purpose at the front of thechapel.626One of these was Richard deCourcy,627the fervid young Irishman, already mentioned, and whose talent and eloquence made him immensely popular. The chapel itself, saidLloyd’s EveningPost628, “has been inspected by some ingenious artists, and is looked upon to be the most completepiece of Gothic architecture that has been constructed for many years!”

Whitefield’s days in England were now nearly ended. In a letter to Captain Joss, dated “Tottenham Court, August 9, 1769,” he wrote:—

“My hands and heart are full. Last night, I went on board theFriendship. The captain is to dine with me to-morrow. I expect to sail the first week in September. You must then be intown.629Mr.Brooksbanks will supply your place. I hope all things will be settled on a right plan. I have the greatest confidence in you. I only wish some means may be found to save the late great expense of coach hire. It has mounted very high.”

In another letter, dated ten days later, and addressed toMr.Adams, Whitefield wrote:—

“My very dear Tommy, talk not of taking a personal leave. You know my make. Paul could stand awhipping, but not aweepingfarewell. Many thanks for your intended present. God bless you and yours! God bless all our never-to-be-forgotten Gloucestershire friends! I can no more. Adieu! Cease not to pray for, my very dear steady old friend,“Less than the least of all,“George Whitefield.”

“Less than the least of all,

“George Whitefield.”

Six days after this, on Friday night, August 25, Whitefield held one of his last sacramental services in England. This was in the Tabernacle, near Moorfields. Nearly two thousand communicants werepresent!630

On the Sunday following, he preached his last sermon in Tottenham Court Road chapel. The text was, Genesisxxviii.12–15. A few extracts must be given. Besides the interest they possess as being among Whitefield’slast wordsin England, they will help to illustrate his style of preaching, when his work was nearly ended.

“When we are travelling in the woods of America, we are obliged to light a fire; and that keeps off the beasts from us. I have often got up in the night, and said to them that were with me (and God forbid I should ever travel with any one, even a quarter of an hour, without speaking something of Jesus!)—‘This fire,’ said I, ‘is like the fire of God’s love, which keeps off the devil and our own lusts from hurting our souls.’“It comforts me much, I assure you, to think that, whenever God shallcall for me, angels will carry me into the bosom of Abraham; but it comforts me more to think, that, as soon as they lay hold of me, my first question to them will be, ‘Where is myMaster? Where is myJesus?’ And that, after all my tossings and tumblings here, I shall be brought to see His face at last.“It is now high time for me to preach my ownfuneral sermon. I am going, for the thirteenth time, to cross the Atlantic. When I came from America last, my health was so bad that I took leave of all friends on the continent, from one end to the other, without the least design of returning to them again. But, to my great surprise, God has been pleased to restore to me some measure of strength; and, though I intended to give up the Orphan House into other hands, God has so ordered it, that his Grace the late Archbishop of Canterbury refused me a charter, unless I would confine it to episcopacy. I could not, in honour, comply with this, as Dissenters, and other serious people of different denominations, had contributed towards its support. I would sooner cut off my head than betray my trust. I always meant the Orphan House to be kept upon a broad bottom, for people of all denominations. I hope, by the25thof March next, all intended alterations and additions will be completed, and a blessed provision be made for many hundreds; and a comfortable support for poor orphans and poor students. This is my only design in going. I intend to travel all along the continent. I am going in no public capacity. I am going trusting in God to bear my charges. I call heaven and earth to witness that I have never had the love of the world one quarter of an hour in my heart. I might have been rich; but now, though this chapel is built, and though I have a comfortable room to live in, I assure you I built the room at my own expense. It cost nobody but myself anything, and I shall leave it with an easy mind. I have thought of these words with pleasure, ‘I will bring thee again to this land.’ I know not whether that will be my experience; but, blessed be God! I have a better land in view. I do not look upon myself at home till I land in my Father’s house. My greatest trial is to part with those who are as dear to me as my own soul. O keep close to God, my dear London friends. I do not bid you keep close to chapel. You have always done that. I shall endeavour to keep up the word of God among you during my absence. I might have had a thousand a year out of this place, if I had chosen it. When I am gone to heaven, you will see what I have got on earth. I do not like to speak now, because it might be thoughtboasting.”631

“It comforts me much, I assure you, to think that, whenever God shallcall for me, angels will carry me into the bosom of Abraham; but it comforts me more to think, that, as soon as they lay hold of me, my first question to them will be, ‘Where is myMaster? Where is myJesus?’ And that, after all my tossings and tumblings here, I shall be brought to see His face at last.

“It is now high time for me to preach my ownfuneral sermon. I am going, for the thirteenth time, to cross the Atlantic. When I came from America last, my health was so bad that I took leave of all friends on the continent, from one end to the other, without the least design of returning to them again. But, to my great surprise, God has been pleased to restore to me some measure of strength; and, though I intended to give up the Orphan House into other hands, God has so ordered it, that his Grace the late Archbishop of Canterbury refused me a charter, unless I would confine it to episcopacy. I could not, in honour, comply with this, as Dissenters, and other serious people of different denominations, had contributed towards its support. I would sooner cut off my head than betray my trust. I always meant the Orphan House to be kept upon a broad bottom, for people of all denominations. I hope, by the25thof March next, all intended alterations and additions will be completed, and a blessed provision be made for many hundreds; and a comfortable support for poor orphans and poor students. This is my only design in going. I intend to travel all along the continent. I am going in no public capacity. I am going trusting in God to bear my charges. I call heaven and earth to witness that I have never had the love of the world one quarter of an hour in my heart. I might have been rich; but now, though this chapel is built, and though I have a comfortable room to live in, I assure you I built the room at my own expense. It cost nobody but myself anything, and I shall leave it with an easy mind. I have thought of these words with pleasure, ‘I will bring thee again to this land.’ I know not whether that will be my experience; but, blessed be God! I have a better land in view. I do not look upon myself at home till I land in my Father’s house. My greatest trial is to part with those who are as dear to me as my own soul. O keep close to God, my dear London friends. I do not bid you keep close to chapel. You have always done that. I shall endeavour to keep up the word of God among you during my absence. I might have had a thousand a year out of this place, if I had chosen it. When I am gone to heaven, you will see what I have got on earth. I do not like to speak now, because it might be thoughtboasting.”631

Whitefield’s lastsermon632in London was preached in theTabernacle, Moorfields, at seven o’clock on Wednesday morning,August 30.633The text he selected was, Johnx.27, 28. The sermon (if so it may be called) was earnest talk, incoherent, and, some would say, egotistic; but it was interspersed with characteristic sentences.

“Sheep,” said Whitefield, “love to be together. They don’t love to be alone. You seldom see a sheep by itself; and Christ’s people may well be compared to them in this. Oh, think some, if we had great people on our side, the King, Lords, and Commons! What then? Alas! alas! Do you think the Church of God would go on a bit the better? No! no! Religion never prospers when it has too much sunshine.Dr.Marryat was not ashamed to preach inmarket language; and I once heard him say at Pinner’s Hall, ‘God has a great dog to fetch His sheep back when they wander.’ Yes, when God’s people wander, He sends the devil after them, and suffers him to bark at them; but instead of barking them further off, he only barks them back again to the fold of Christ.”

In another part of his discourse, Whitefield, unnecessarily if not egotistically, stated that, before he was twenty-two years of age, he had the offer of two parishes, by Benson, Bishop of Gloucester; that, when he first came to London, most of the metropolitan churches were open to him; and that twelve or fourteen constables had to guard the doors of the churches where he preached. He then referred to his intention to turn the Orphan House into a College; and highly eulogisedMr.andMrs.Dixon, his “old servants” there, and also theMessrs.Wright andMr.Crane, whom he had sent out to execute the improvements and additions to the building. He concluded as follows:—

“This is the thirteenth time of my crossing the mighty waters. It is a little difficult at this time of life; but I delight in the cause, and God fills me with a peace that is unutterable. I expect many trials while on board. Satan always meets me there; but God, I believe, will keep me. I thankGod, I have the honour of leaving everything quite well and easy at both ends of the town. If I am drowned, I will say, if I can, while I am drowning, ‘Lord, take care of my English friends!’ Some of you, I doubt not, will be gone to Christ before my return; but, though parted, it will be to meet again for ever. God grant that none who weep now at my parting, may weep at our meeting at the day of judgment! Come, sinner, come, see what it is to have eternal life! Haste! haste! haste away to the great, the glorious Shepherd! I care not what shepherds you are under, so that you are kept near the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls. The Lord bless you and keep you! The Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious unto you! The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace!”

Such was Whitefield’s final benediction upon his Tabernacle congregation, on Wednesdaymorning, August 30. In point of fact, this was asecondfarewell sermon, in the same building; for, on the Wednesday night previous, he had addressed those of the congregation who were unable to attend a week-day morning service. His sermon, on that occasion, was, in all respects, superior to his final one. The text was, “And thy God thy glory” (Isaiahlx.19). He then made his last London collection.

“The Tabernacle has been repaired,” said he; “and I wish to leave it unencumbered. I told my friends, I would make a collection. Remember, it is not for me, but for yourselves—for the place where you are to meet, when I am tossing on the water, and in a foreign clime. The arrears are nearly£70. I hope you will not run away. If you can say, God is my glory, you will not push one upon another, as though you would lose yourselves in a crowd, and say, Nobody sees me. Does not God Almighty see you? You must excuse me. I cannot say much more. I beg you will excuse me from a particular parting with you. Take my public farewell. I will pray for you when in the cabin; I will pray for you when tempests are about me; and this shall be my prayer, ‘O God, be Thou their God! and grant their God may be their glory!’”

A few other extracts, from Whitefield’s last sermons in London, may be welcome. They are taken from the 8vo. volume, published by Gurney immediately after Whitefield’sdeath.634

“The Devil’s Children.—‘O,’ says one, ‘I never felt the devil.’ I am sure thou mayest feel him now. Thou artdadda’sown child. Thou art speaking the very language of the devil; and he is teaching thee to deny thy own father. Graceless child of the devil, if thou hast never felt the devil’s fiery darts, it is because the devil is sure of thee. He has got thee into a damnable slumber. May the God of love awaken thee before real damnation comes!” (p.262.)“Persecution.—Our suffering times will be our best times. I know I had more comfort in Moorfields and on Kennington Common, especially when rotten eggs, cats, and dogs were thrown upon me,—I had more comfort in these burning bushes than I have had when I have been in ease. I remember when I was preaching at Exeter, and a stone made my forehead bleed, the word came with double power; and a labourer, wounded at the same time by another stone, came to me and said. ‘The man gave me a wound, but Jesus healed me; I never had my bonds broken till my head was’” (p.268).“Penitents.—I have reason to believe, from the notes put up at both ends of the town, that many of you have arrows of conviction stuck fast in your souls. I have taken in near two hundred, at Tottenham Court Road, within a fortnight. God is thus at work. Let the devil roar; we will go on in the name of the Lord” (p.280).“Self-condemnation.—I wish I could make you all angry. I am a sad mischief-maker; but I don’t want to make you angry with one another. Some people, who profess to have grace in their hearts, seem resolved to set all God’s people at variance. They are like Samson’s foxes with firebrands in their tails, setting fire to all about them. Are any of you come from the Foundery, or any other place, to-night? I care not where youcome from. I pray God you may all quarrel; that is, I want you to fall out with your own hearts” (p.289).“Baptismal Controversy.—It is a strange thing how bigots can set the world on fire by throwing water at one another; and that people cannot be baptized, without shewing that the chief thing they have been baptized into, are the waters of strife. This is making sport for the devil. For my part, I do not enter into the debate about infant or adult baptism, nor yet about its mode. I believe you might as well attempt to draw two parallel lines, and bring them to meet at some certain place, as to bring these learned combatants together; for, of all disputants, religious disputants are the most obstinate and fiery” (p.297).“Catholicity.—The world pretty well knows the temper of my mind, both in respect to politics and church-government. I am a professed avower of moderation. I don’t care whether you go to church or meeting. I profess to be a member of the Church of England; but, if they will not let me preach in a church, I will preach anywhere. All the world is my parish; and I will preach wherever God gives me an opportunity. You will never find me disputing about the outward appendages of religion. Don’t tell me you are a Baptist, an Independent, a Presbyterian, a Dissenter: tell me you are a Christian. That is all I want. This is the religion of heaven, and must be ours upon earth” (p.310).“Whitefield’s Salary.—I intend to give you a parting word on Sunday evening, and to take my last farewell in the ensuing week, for I must have a day or two to dispatch my private business. As this place has been repaired, and I am wishful to leave everything clear before I go, a collection must be made for defraying the expense incurred. The world thinks I am very rich. A man, the other day, sent me word, that, if I did not lay£30 in a certain place, I should be killed. You yourselves, perhaps, think I get a great deal for preaching here; and, therefore, now that I am going away, I will tell you my stated allowance for preaching at the Tabernacle. I have no more from this place than£100 a year; and, yet, when I asked last night how the accounts stood, I was told there were£50 arrears. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘ungrateful as it is to me, I will make a collection, that all may be left free.’ There are not six people in this Tabernacle from whom I have had the value of a guinea from last January to the present month of August; nor have I had a guinea from all the ordinances of the place towards bearing the expenses of my voyage” (p.372).

“Persecution.—Our suffering times will be our best times. I know I had more comfort in Moorfields and on Kennington Common, especially when rotten eggs, cats, and dogs were thrown upon me,—I had more comfort in these burning bushes than I have had when I have been in ease. I remember when I was preaching at Exeter, and a stone made my forehead bleed, the word came with double power; and a labourer, wounded at the same time by another stone, came to me and said. ‘The man gave me a wound, but Jesus healed me; I never had my bonds broken till my head was’” (p.268).

“Penitents.—I have reason to believe, from the notes put up at both ends of the town, that many of you have arrows of conviction stuck fast in your souls. I have taken in near two hundred, at Tottenham Court Road, within a fortnight. God is thus at work. Let the devil roar; we will go on in the name of the Lord” (p.280).

“Self-condemnation.—I wish I could make you all angry. I am a sad mischief-maker; but I don’t want to make you angry with one another. Some people, who profess to have grace in their hearts, seem resolved to set all God’s people at variance. They are like Samson’s foxes with firebrands in their tails, setting fire to all about them. Are any of you come from the Foundery, or any other place, to-night? I care not where youcome from. I pray God you may all quarrel; that is, I want you to fall out with your own hearts” (p.289).

“Baptismal Controversy.—It is a strange thing how bigots can set the world on fire by throwing water at one another; and that people cannot be baptized, without shewing that the chief thing they have been baptized into, are the waters of strife. This is making sport for the devil. For my part, I do not enter into the debate about infant or adult baptism, nor yet about its mode. I believe you might as well attempt to draw two parallel lines, and bring them to meet at some certain place, as to bring these learned combatants together; for, of all disputants, religious disputants are the most obstinate and fiery” (p.297).

“Catholicity.—The world pretty well knows the temper of my mind, both in respect to politics and church-government. I am a professed avower of moderation. I don’t care whether you go to church or meeting. I profess to be a member of the Church of England; but, if they will not let me preach in a church, I will preach anywhere. All the world is my parish; and I will preach wherever God gives me an opportunity. You will never find me disputing about the outward appendages of religion. Don’t tell me you are a Baptist, an Independent, a Presbyterian, a Dissenter: tell me you are a Christian. That is all I want. This is the religion of heaven, and must be ours upon earth” (p.310).

“Whitefield’s Salary.—I intend to give you a parting word on Sunday evening, and to take my last farewell in the ensuing week, for I must have a day or two to dispatch my private business. As this place has been repaired, and I am wishful to leave everything clear before I go, a collection must be made for defraying the expense incurred. The world thinks I am very rich. A man, the other day, sent me word, that, if I did not lay£30 in a certain place, I should be killed. You yourselves, perhaps, think I get a great deal for preaching here; and, therefore, now that I am going away, I will tell you my stated allowance for preaching at the Tabernacle. I have no more from this place than£100 a year; and, yet, when I asked last night how the accounts stood, I was told there were£50 arrears. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘ungrateful as it is to me, I will make a collection, that all may be left free.’ There are not six people in this Tabernacle from whom I have had the value of a guinea from last January to the present month of August; nor have I had a guinea from all the ordinances of the place towards bearing the expenses of my voyage” (p.372).

TheseWhitefieldianamight easily be multiplied, but sufficient have been given to shew the familiar, and (as some will think) the objectionable style used by Whitefield at the close of his public ministry. His sermons now, as compared with those he published at the commencement of his career, were notably inferior. As compared with the sermons preached and printed by Wesley, they were a perfect contrast. They were neither scriptural expositions nordoctrinal disquisitions; but free and easy talk, intermixed with anecdotes, personal reminiscences, and quaint quotations. Matthew Henry’s Exposition was Whitefield’s favourite Commentary; and to this circumstance Wesley attributed the quaintness of Whitefield’s style. In the preface to his “Explanatory Notes upon the Old Testament,” published in 1765, Wesley, with an obvious reference to Whitefield, says:—

“I omit” (in these Notes) “abundance ofMr.Henry’s quaint sayings and lively antitheses; as, ‘God feeds Hisbirds. Shall He not feed Hisbabes?’ I used once to wonder, whence some, whom I greatly esteem, had so many pretty turns in preaching. But when I readMr.Henry, my wonder ceased. I saw they were only copying after him: although probably without designing it. They generally consulted his exposition of their text, and frequently just before preaching. And, hence, little witticisms and a kind of archness insensibly stole upon them, and took the place of that strong, manly eloquence, which they would otherwise have learned from the inspired writers.”

Two of Whitefield’slast sermons in Englandwere preached at Gravesend, on Sunday, September 3, 1769. Hence the following, taken fromSt.James’s Chronicle, for September 7: “On Saturday last, theRev.Mr.Whitefield went from town to Gravesend, where he preached, on Sunday morning, in the Methodist Tabernacle, and, in the evening, in the Market Place.” Whitefield himself writes:—

“Sunday, September 3. Preached this morning at the Methodist Tabernacle, from Johnxii.32. The congregation was not very large, but God gave me great freedom of speech. In the afternoon, I preached in the Market Place, from Genesisiii.13, to a much larger, but not more devout auditory. In the outskirts, some were a little noisy, but most were very attentive, and I was enabled to lift up my voice like a trumpet. The evening was spent, as the night before, with my Christian friends from London.”“Monday, September 4. Had my dear Christian friends on board to breakfast with me this morning. Conversation was sweet, but parting bitter. However, I was helped to bear up; and, after their departure the Divine Presence made up the loss ofall.”635

“Monday, September 4. Had my dear Christian friends on board to breakfast with me this morning. Conversation was sweet, but parting bitter. However, I was helped to bear up; and, after their departure the Divine Presence made up the loss ofall.”635

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