“The ruins,” writesDr.Stevens, “the only memorial of a great and benevolent scheme, were also the memento of the great Methodist evangelist. If the ostensible design of the institution had failed, it had accomplished a greater result which was destined never to fail; for it had been the centre of American attraction to its founder, had prompted his thirteen passages across the Atlantic, and had thus led to those extraordinary travels and labours, from Georgia to Maine, which quickened with spiritual life the Protestantism of the continent, and opened the career of Methodism in the westernhemisphere.”656We return to Whitefield’s history. After the auditing of his Orphan House accounts, he went to Charleston, where he remained about a month. He was now in better health than he had been for many years, and was “enabled to preach almost every day.” The establishment of his College, however, was still a great anxiety. In a letter toMr.Keen, dated “Charleston, February 10, 1770,” he wrote:—“I have, more than once, conversed with the Governor of Georgia, in the most explicit manner, concerning an Act of the Assembly for the establishment of the intended Orphan House College. He most readily consents. I have shewn him a draught, which he much approves of; and all will be finished on my return from the northward. Meanwhile, the buildingswill be carried on. Since my being in Charleston, I have shewn the draught to some persons of great eminence and influence. They highly approve of it, and willingly consent to be some of the wardens: near twenty are to be of Georgia, about six of this place, one of Philadelphia, one of New York, one of Boston, three of Edinburgh, two of Glasgow, and six of London. Those of Georgia and South Carolina are to be qualified; the others to be only honorary corresponding wardens.”In the same month, Wesley wrote to Whitefield; and, because the letter happened to be the last he addressed to his old friend, and because it expressed Wesley’s opinions respecting the intended College, it shall be given at full length.“Lewisham,February 21, 1770.“My dear Brother,—Mr.Keen informed me some time since of your safe arrival in Carolina; of which, indeed, I could not doubt for a moment, notwithstanding the idle report of your being cast away, which was so current in London. I trust our Lord has more work for you to do in Europe, as well as in America. And who knows, but, before your return to England, I may pay another visit to the New World? I have been strongly solicited by several of our friends in New York and Philadelphia. They urge many reasons, some of which appear to be of considerable weight; and my age is no objection at all; for, I bless God, my health is not barely as good, but abundantly better in several respects, than when I was five-and-twenty. But there are so many reasons on the other side, that as yet I can determine nothing: so I must wait for further light. Here I am: let the Lord do with me as seemeth Him good. For the present, I must beg of you to supply my lack of service, by encouraging our preachers as you judge best, who are as yet comparatively young andinexperienced;657by giving them such advices as you think proper; and, above all, by exhorting them, not only to love one another, but, if it be possible, as much as lies in them, to live peaceably with all men.“Some time ago, since you went hence, I heard a circumstance which gave me a good deal of concern; namely, that the College or Academy in Georgia had swallowed up the Orphan House. Shall I give my judgment without being asked? Methinks, friendship requires I should. Are there not, then, two points which come in view—a point of mercy, and a point of justice? With regard to the former, may it not be inquired, Can anything on earth be a greater charity, than to bring up orphans? What is a college or an academy compared to this? unless you could have such a college as perhaps is not upon earth. I know the value of learning, and am more in danger of prizing it too much, than too little. But, still, I cannot place the giving it to five hundred students, on a level with saving the bodies, if not the souls too, of five hundred orphans. But let us pass from the point of mercy to that of justice. You had land given, and collectedmoney, for an Orphan House. Are you at liberty to apply this to any other purpose,—at least, while there are any orphans in Georgia left? I just touch upon this, though it is an important point, and leave it to your own consideration, whether part of it, at least, might not properly be applied to carry on the original design.“In speaking thus freely, I have given you a fresh proof of the sincerity with which I am your ever affectionate friend and brother,“John Wesley.”658Wesley’s letter, though it may lack Whitefield’s gushing lovingness, is the letter of a fond and faithful friend, and fully proves that, to the last, the two great evangelists were not rivals, as some have represented them, but affectionate and confiding fellow-workers. Whitefield dearly loved Wesley, and by his actions shewed he did; and Wesley equally felt for Whitefield warm affection. “In every place,” said he, after Whitefield’s death, “I wish to shew all possible respect to the memory of that great and goodman.”659“I believe he was highly favoured of God; yea, that he was one of the most eminent ministers that has appeared in England, or perhaps in the world, during the presentcentury.”660Early in the month of March, Whitefield returned to Bethesda, where he continued till near the end of April. In a letter toMr.Keen, he wrote:—“Savannah,March 11, 1770.“My very dear worthy Friend,—Blessed be God, the good wine seemed to be kept till the last at Charleston. Last Thursday” (March 8) “I returned, and found all well at Bethesda. I am come to town to preach this morning, though somewhat fatigued with being on the water three nights. Upon the whole, however, I am better in health than I have been for many years. Praise the Lord, O mysoul!”661Further extracts from letters toMr.Keen will pourtray Whitefield’s views and feelings at this period of his history. He was happy in a luxuriant wilderness.“Bethesda, April 6, 1770. How glad would many be to see ourGoshen, ourBethel, ourBethesda! Never did I enjoy such domestic peace, comfort,and joy, during my whole pilgrimage. It is unspeakable, it is full of glory. Peace, unutterable peace, attends our paths, and a pleasing prospect of increasing prosperity is continually rising to our view. I have lately taken six poor children, and purpose to add greatly to their number. DearMr.Dixon and his wife are to sail next month for Portsmouth. We part with great respect. Fain would I retain such an old, tried, disinterested friend, in the service of the sanctuary, and near my person; but what scheme to pursue I know not, being so uncertain as to the path I shall be called to take. A few months will determine: perhaps a few weeks.”“Bethesda, April 16, 1770. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! All is well, all more than well here! Never, never did I enjoy such domestic peace and happiness. I have taken in about ten orphans. Prizes! prizes! Hallelujah! Join, join in praising Him whose mercy endureth for ever! If possible, I shall write a line to the Welsh brethren. They have indeed sustained a loss in the death ofMr.Howell Davies. God sanctify it! Surely my turn will comeby-and-by.”662“Bethesda, April 20, 1770. We enjoy a little heaven upon earth here. With regret, I go northward, as far as Philadelphia at least, next Monday. Everything concurs to shew me, that Bethesda affairs must go on, as yet, in their old channel. A few months may open strange scenes. O for a spirit of love and moderation on all sides, and on both sides of the water! In all probability, I shall not return hither till November. Was ever man blessed with such a set of skillful, peaceful, laborious helpers! O Bethesda, my Bethel, my Peniel! My happiness is inconceivable. Nine or ten orphans have been lately taken in. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Let chapel, tabernacle, heaven, and earth, resound with hallelujah!”“Savannah, April 24, 1770. Five in the morning. I am just going into the boat, in order to embark for Philadelphia. This will prove a blessed year for me, at the day of judgment. Hallelujah! Come, Lord, come!Mr.Robert Wright is a quiet, ingenuous, good creature, and his wife an excellent mistress of the family. Such a set of helpers I never met with. They will go on with the buildings, while I take my gospel range to the northward.”Whitefield had now left his beloved Bethesda for ever. He arrived in Philadelphia on Sunday, the6thof May, and met with the missionaries of his old friend Wesley,Messrs.Boardman and Pilmoor, whom he encouraged to proceed to their arduouswork.663Writing toMr.Keen, he says:—“Philadelphia, May 9, 1770. I arrived here on the6thinstant. The evening following, I was enabled to preach to a large auditory, and am to repeat the delightful task this evening. Pulpits and hearts seem to be as open to me as ever. Praise the Lord, O our souls! I have my old plan in view, to travel in these northern parts all summer, and return late in the fall to Georgia. Through infinite mercy, I continue in good health, and am more and more in love with a pilgrim life.”“Philadelphia, May 24, 1770. I have now been here nearly three weeks. People of all ranks flock as much as ever. Impressions are made on many, and, I trust, they will abide. To all theEpiscopal Churches, as well as to most of the other places of worship, I have free access. My health is preserved; and, though I preach twice on the Lord’s-day, and three or four times a week besides, I am rather better than I have been for many years. This is the Lord’s doing. To Him be all the glory!”Three weeks after this, Whitefield wrote again toMr.Keen:—“Philadelphia, June 14, 1770. I have just returned from a hundred and fifty miles’ circuit, in which I have been enabled to preach every day. So many new, as well as old, doors are open, and so many invitations sent from various quarters, that I know not which way to turn myself. However, at present I am bound for New York, and so on further northward.”He arrived at New York on Saturday, June 23, and, in another letter toMr.Keen, remarked:—“New York, June 30, 1770. I have been here just a week. Have been enabled to preach four times, and am to preach again this evening. Congregations are larger than ever. Next week, I purpose to go to Albany: from thence, perhaps, to the Oneida Indians. There is to be a very large Indian congress.Mr.Kirkland accompanies me. He is a truly Christian minister and missionary. Everything possible should be done to strengthen his hands and his heart.”A word must be interposed respecting this valuable man. Samuel Kirkland had been educated inDr.Wheelock’s school, and in New Jersey College. While at school, he hadlearned the language of the Mohawks; and, in 1764, commenced a journey to the Senecas, among whom he spent a year and a half. In 1766, he was ordained a missionary to the Indians; and, in 1769, removed with his wife to the Oneida tribe, for whose benefit he laboured more than forty years. His son,Dr.Kirkland, became president of Harvard College. No wonder Whitefield fell in love with such a man. Unfortunately, no record of his visit to the “Indian congress” now exists; but an idea of his enormous labours may be gathered from the following letter toMr.Keen:—“New York, July 29, 1770. During this month, I have been above a five hundred miles’ circuit, and have been enabled to preach every day. The congregations have been very large, attentive, and affected, particularly at Albany, Schenectady, Great Barrington, Norfolk, Salisbury, Sharon, Smithfield, Powkeepsy, Fishkill, New Rumburt, New Windsor, and Peckshill. Last night, I returned hither, and hope to set out for Boston in two or three days. O what a new scene of usefulness is opening in various parts of this new world! All fresh work where I have been. The Divine influence has been as at the first. Invitations crowd upon me, both from ministers and people, from many, many quarters. A very peculiar providence led me lately to a place where a horse-stealer was executed. Thousands attended. The poor criminal, hearing I was in the country, had sent me several letters. The sheriff allowed him to come and hear a sermon under an adjacent tree. Solemn! solemn! After being by himself about an hour, I walked half a mile with him to the gallows. His heart had been softened before my first visit. He seemed full of Divine consolations. An instructive walk! I went up with him into the cart. He gave a short exhortation. I then stood upon the coffin; added, I trust, a word in season; prayed; gave the blessing; and took my leave. I hope effectual good was done to the hearers and spectators.”While travelling this “five hundred miles’ circuit,” Whitefield, one day, dined, with a number of ministers, at the manse of his old friend, theRev.William Tennent. After dinner, as often happened, Whitefield expressed his joy at the thought of soon dying and being admitted into heaven; and, then, appealing to the ministers present, he asked if his joy was shared by them. Generally they assented; but Tennent continued silent. “Brother Tennent,” said Whitefield, “you are the oldest man among us. Do you not rejoice that your being called home is so near at hand?” “I have no wish about it,” bluntly answered Tennent. Whitefield pressed his question, and Tennent again replied, “No, sir, it is no pleasureto me at all; and, if you knew your duty, it would be none to you. I have nothing to do with death. My business is to live aslongas I can, and aswellas I can.” Whitefield was not satisfied, and a third time urged the good old man to state, whether he would not choose to die, if death were left to his own choice. “Sir,” answered Tennent, “I have no choice about it. I am God’s servant, and have engaged to do His business as long as He pleases to continue me therein. But now, brother Whitefield, let me ask you a question. What do you think I would say, if I were to send my man Tom into the field to plough, and if at noon I should find him lounging under a tree, and complaining, ‘Master, the sun is hot, and the ploughing hard, and I am weary of my work, and overdone with heat: do, master, let me go home and rest’? What would I say? Why, that he was a lazy fellow, and that it was his business to do the work I had appointed him, until I should think fit to call him home.” For the present, at least, Whitefield was silenced, and was taught, that it is every Christian man’s duty to say, “All the days of my appointed time will I wait till my changecome.”664Whitefield’s preaching was never more popular and powerful than now. Sharon has been mentioned in the foregoing extract. The minister here was theRev.Cotton Mather Smith, who offered him his pulpit. Whitefield selected his favourite subject, and preached from, “Ye must be born again.” The immense congregation was moved and melted throughout, but the pronunciation of the concluding words of the sermon, it is said, produced a life-time impression on those who heard them: “Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon this garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into this garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.” (Solomon’s Song,iv.16.) Simple words, but uttered in a manner and with a pathos which thrilled the enormous crowd, and which caused many of them to follow him into the adjacent towns for several successivedays.665Another anecdote may be inserted here. An eminentshipbuilder being invited to hear Whitefield, at first made several objections, but at last was persuaded to go. “What do you think ofMr.Whitefield?” asked his friend. “Think,” said he, “I never heard such a man in my life. I tell you, sir, every Sunday, when I go to church, I can build a ship from stem to stern, under the sermon; but, were it to save my soul, underMr.Whitefield, I could not lay a singleplank.”666Whitefield sailed from New York on Tuesday, July31st, and arrived at New Port on the Friday following. With the exception of six days, on five of which he was seriously ill, he preached daily until he died. From August4thto8thinclusive, he preached at New Port; August9thto12th, at Providence; August13th, at Attleborough; and14th, at Wrentham. With the exception of the19th, when he discoursed at Malden, he officiated every day at Boston, from the15thto the25th. On August26th, he preached at Medford; on the27th, at Charlestown; and on the28th, at Cambridge. The next two days were employed at Boston; August31st, at Roxbury Plain; September1st, at Milton;2nd, at Roxbury;3rd, at Boston;5th, at Salem;6th, at Marble Head;7th, at Salem;8th, at Cape Ann;9th, at Ipswich;10thand11th, at Newbury Port; and12thand13th, at Rowley. On the14thand two following days, he was disabled by violent diarrhœa. From September17thto19th, he again preached at Boston; and on the20th, at Newton. The next two days he was ill, but managed to travel from Boston to Portsmouth, where he preached on the23rdto the25th.667The26th, he employed at Kittery; the27th, at Old York; the28th, at Portsmouth; and the29th, atExeter.668At six o’clock in the morning of the30th, he died.Thus were spent the last two months of Whitefield’s life. He was too much occupied to have time for his wonted correspondence with his friends; but there are two letters, belonging to this interval, which must be quoted: the first toMr.Wright, his manager at Bethesda; the second to his beloved and faithful friend,Mr.Keen, of London.“Boston,September 17, 1770.“DearMr.Wright,—Blessed be God! I find all is well at Bethesda; only I want to know what things are needed, that I may order them from Philadelphia, by Captain Souder. Fain would I contrive to come by him, but people are so importunate for my stay in these parts, that I fear it will be impracticable. Lord Jesus, direct my goings in Thy way! He will, He will! My God will supply all my wants, according to the riches of His grace in Christ Jesus. Two or three evenings ago, I was taken in the night with a violent lax, attended with retching and shivering, so that I was obliged to return to Boston. Through infinite mercy, I am restored, and to-morrow morning hope to beginto beginagain. Never was the word received with greater eagerness than now. All opposition seems, as it were, for a while to cease. I find God’s time is the best. The season is critical as to outward circumstances. But when forts are given up, the Lord Jesus can appoint salvation for walls and bulwarks. He has promised to be a wall of fire round about His people. This comforts me concerning Bethesda, though we should have a Spanish war. You will be pleased to hear I never was carried through the summer’s heat so well. I hope it has been so with you, and all my family. Hoping ere long to see you, I am,etc.,“George Whitefield.”The letter toMr.Keen, written only seven days before Whitefield’s death, was to the following effect:—“Portsmouth, New Hampshire,September 23, 1770.“My very dear Friend,—By this time, I thought to be moving southward: but never was greater importunity used to detain me longer in these northern parts. Poor New England is much to be pitied; Boston people most of all. How falsely misrepresented! What a mercy that our Christian charter cannot be dissolved! Blessed be God for an unchangeable Jesus! You will see, by the many invitations enclosed, what a door is opened for preaching His everlasting gospel. I was so ill on Friday, that I could not preach, though thousands were waiting to hear. Well, the day of release will shortly come, but it does not seem yet; for,by riding sixty miles, I am better, and hope to preach here to-morrow. I hope my blessed Master will accept of these poor efforts to serve Him. O for a warm heart! O to stand fast in the faith, to quit ourselves like men, and to be strong! May this be the happy experience of you and yours! If spared so long, I expect to see Georgia about Christmas. Still pray and praise. I am so poorly, and so engaged when able to preach, that this must apologize for not writing to more friends. It is quite impracticable. Hoping to see all dear friends about the time proposed, and earnestly desiring a continued interest in all your prayers, I must hasten to subscribe myself,“My dear, very dear sir,“Less than the least of all,“George Whitefield.”This was Whitefield’s last letter; at all events, no letter of a subsequent date has been published.Though Whitefield scarcely alludes to the circumstance, it ought to be noted, that, the last six months of his life were spent in the midst of great political excitement. It is a well-known fact, that the inhabitants of the British colonies in America strongly objected to pay taxes upon goods imported from England; and defended themselves by the famous aphorism, “Taxation, without representation, is tyranny.” So stout was their resistance, that, during the year 1769, the exports of English merchants fell short of what they had been to the value of three-quarters of a million sterling; and, since the year 1767, the revenue, received by government from duties paid in America, had decreased from£110,000 to£30,000. In consequence of this state of things, Lord North, on the5thof March, 1770, moved in the House of Commons for leave to bring in a bill to repeal all the American taxes and duties, except the duty upon tea. Great debates followed. On the1stof May, the opposition called for the correspondence with the American colonies. Eight days later, Burke moved eight resolutions censuring the plan the government were pursuing. On the14thof May, Chatham moved that, in consequence of “the alarming disorders in his Majesty’s American dominions,” an humble address be presented to the king, beseeching him “to take the recent and genuine sense of the people, by dissolving this present parliament, and calling another, with all convenient dispatch.”So much as it regards England. In America, the excitementhad become dangerous. In nearly all the principal seaports of the colonies, committees had been appointed, by the people, to examine cargoes arriving from Great Britain, and to prevent the sale of taxed commodities. At Boston, meetings were regularly held, and strong votes of censure passed upon every one who dared to introduce or sell any of the prohibited goods; and, still further to increase the odium and danger of such departures from the popular will, the names of offenders were published in the newspapers, with comments representing them as slaves and traitors.As might naturally be expected, riots followed. In the month of February, 1770, the shop of Theophilus Lillie was attacked. A friend of Lillie’s seized a gun, and fired upon the assailants. The shot killed Christopher Snider, a dirty boy, who, as “the first martyr to the glorious cause of liberty,” was buried with great pomp, the procession which followed the young reformer to his grave being a quarter of a mile in length. In the meantime, the inhabitants of Boston, and the soldiers quartered there, were perpetually quarrelling. No man in a red coat could go through the streets without being insulted, and no discipline could prevent the soldiers from retorting. Words led to blows. On the2ndof March, a private of the29thRegiment got into a quarrel, and was beaten by a set of ropemakers. A dozen of the soldier’s comrades chastised the ropemakers, and made them run for their very lives. The townspeople were exasperated, and armed themselves with clubs. Meetings were held by the mob; and, on the5thof March, a crowd, with sticks and clubs, marched to Dock Square, and made an attack upon the soldiers. Muskets were fired, and the rioters ran away; but three were killed, and five were dangerously wounded. The subject need not here be pursued at greater length. In point of fact, the American Rebellion was begun, and, during the last six months of his eventful life, Whitefield preached among the excited and angry discontents. In some degree, he evidently sympathised with their protests concerning their grievances; and, hence, the exclamations in his last letter toMr.Keen: “Poor New England is much to be pitied! Boston people most of all! How falsely misrepresented!” No doubt,both sides were misrepresented. The hour was pregnant with the most disastrous events. For years afterwards, the roar and ravages of war were terrific. Fortunately for himself, Whitefield escaped to the land of love, and peace, and blessedness, while the storm was only gathering, and before it burst in all its devastating deadliness.On Saturday morning, September 29, Whitefield set out from Portsmouth to Boston, with the intention of preaching at Newbury Port next morning. On the way, he was stopped at Exeter, fifteen miles from Portsmouth, and was prevailed upon to give a sermon to the people there. A friend said to him, “Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to preach.” “True, sir,” replied Whitefield; and then, clasping his hands, and looking up to heaven, he added, “Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy work, but not of it. If I have not yet finished my course, let me go and speak for Thee once more in the fields, seal Thy truth, and come home and die!” An immense multitude assembled. He mounted ahogshead.669His text was, “Examine yourselves, whether you be in the faith.” One, who was present, thus described the preacher and his sermon:—“The subject was ‘Faith and works.’ He rose up sluggishly and wearily, as if worn down and exhausted by his stupendous labours. His face seemed bloated, his voice was hoarse, his enunciation heavy. Sentence after sentence was thrown off in rough, disjointed portions, without much regard to point or beauty. At length, his mind kindled, and his lion-like voice roared to the extremities of his audience. He was speaking of the inefficiency of works to merit salvation, and suddenly cried out in a tone of thunder, ‘Works! works! a man get to heaven by works! I would as soon think of climbing to the moon on a rope ofsand!’”670Another gentleman, who was present, wrote:—“Mr.Whitefield rose, and stood erect, and his appearance alone was a powerful sermon. He remained several minutes unable to speak; and then said, ‘I will wait for the gracious assistance of God; for He will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in His name.’ He then delivered, perhaps, one of his best sermons. ‘I go,’ he cried, ‘I go to rest prepared; my sun has arisen, and by aid from heaven, has given light to many. It is now about to set for—no, it is about to rise to the zenith of immortalglory. I have outlived many on earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Oh, thought divine! I soon shall be in a world where time, age, pain, and sorrow are unknown. My body fails, my spirit expands. How willingly would I live for ever to preach Christ! But I die to bewithHim.’”671Whitefield’s sermon was two hours in length,—characteristic of the man, but, in his present health, quite enough to kill him.TheRev.Jonathan Parsons, who, for the last twenty-four years, had been the Presbyterian minister at Newbury Port, met him at Exeter. In piety, the two were kindred spirits.Mr.Parsons’ congregation was one of the largest in America. As a preacher, he was eminently useful; his imagination was rich, and his voice clear and commanding. He was well skilled in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages; and many were the seals of his faithful ministry, which closed six years after that of his friend Whitefield’s.After Whitefield’s enormous sermon, the two friends dined at Captain Gillman’s, and then started for Newbury Port. On arriving there, Whitefield was so exhausted, that he was unable to leave the boat without assistance, but, in the course of the evening, he recovered hisspirits.672Newbury Port was an ordinary New England village; in fact, it remains such at the present day,—its streets narrow, and not overcrowded with either traffic orpassengers.673It is a remarkable coincidence, that,exactlythirty years before his death, Whitefield, for the first time, visited the place which contains his sepulchre. In his Journal, he wrote:—“Tuesday, September 30, 1740. Preached at Ipswich in the morning to many thousands. There was a great melting in the congregation. Dined. Set out for Newbury, another town twelve miles from Ipswich, and arrived about three. Here again the power of the Lord accompanied the word. The meeting-house was very large. Many ministers were present, and the people were greatly affected. Blessed be God!”Little did the great preacher think, that, on the same day, thirty years afterwards, his work would terminate in themeeting-house’s manse. The venerable building still stands, in a narrow lane, and, though now used as two comfortable residences, the spacious entrance hall yet exists, and likewise the fine oak staircase which led to the room in which Whitefielddied.674While Whitefield partook of an early supper, the people assembled at the front of the parsonage, and even crowded into its hall, impatient to hear a few words from the man they so greatly loved. “I am tired,” said Whitefield, “and must go to bed.” He took a candle, and was hastening to his chamber. The sight of the people moved him; and, pausing on the staircase, he began to speak to them. He had preached his last sermon; this was to be his last exhortation. There he stood, the crowd in the hall “gazing up at him with tearful eyes, as Elisha at the ascending prophet. His voice flowed on until the candle which he held in his hand burned away andwent out in its socket! The next morning he was not, for God had takenhim!”675Mr.Richard Smith, who had accompanied Whitefield from England, and had attended him in his journeyings, followed him to his chamber. He found him reading the Bible, and withDr.Watts’s Psalms before him. Whitefield drank some water-gruel, knelt by his bedside, engaged in prayer, and then went to rest. He slept till two in the morning, when he asked for cider, and drank a wine-glassful.“He panted for want of breath,” saysMr.Smith. “I asked him how he felt. He answered, ‘My asthma is returning; I must have two or three days’ rest. Two or three days’ riding, without preaching, will set me up again.’ Though the window had been half up all night, he asked me to put it a little higher. ‘I cannot breathe,’ said he, ‘but I hope I shall be better by-and-by. A good pulpit sweat to-day may give me relief. I shall be better after preaching.’ I said to him, I wished he would not preach so often. He replied, ‘I had rather wear out, than rust out.’ He then sat up in bed and prayed that God would bless his preaching where he had been, and also bless his preaching that day, that more souls might be brought to Christ. He prayed for direction, whether he should winter at Boston, or hasten southward. He asked for blessings on his Bethesda College and his family there; likewise on the congregations at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court chapel, and on all his English friends.“He then lay down to sleep again. This was nigh three o’clock. At a quarter to four he awoke, and said, ‘My asthma, my asthma is coming on again. I wish I had not promised to preach at Haverhill to-morrow. I don’t think I shall be able; but I shall see what to-day will bring forth. If I am no better to-morrow, I will take a two or three days’ ride.’ He then asked me to warm him a little gruel; and, in breaking the firewood, I awokeMr.Parsons, who rose and came in. He went toMr.Whitefield’s bedside, and asked him how he felt. He answered, ‘I am almost suffocated. I can scarce breathe. My asthma quite chokes me.’ He got out of bed, and went to the open window for air. This was exactly at five o’clock. Soon after, he turned to me, and said, ‘I am dying.’ I said, ‘I hope not, sir.’ He ran to the other window, panting for breath, but could get no relief. I went forDr.Sawyer; and, on my coming back, I saw death on his face. We offered him warm wine with lavender drops, which he refused. I persuaded him to sit down and put on his cloak; he consented by a sign, but could not speak. I then offered him the glass of warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed as if it would have stopped his breath entirely. In a little while, he brought up a considerable quantity of phlegm. I was continually employed in taking the mucus from his mouth, bathing his temples, and rubbing his wrists. His hands and feet were as cold as clay. When the doctor came, and felt his pulse, he said, ‘He is a dead man.’Mr.Parsons replied, ‘I do not believe it. You must do something, doctor.’ He answered, ‘I cannot. He is now near his lastbreath.’676And indeed so it proved; for he fetched but one gasp, stretched out his feet, and breathed no more. This was exactly at sixo’clock.”677Thus died the most popular and powerful evangelist of modern times, on Sunday morning, September 30, 1770. “I shall die silent,” remarked Whitefield at the dinner table of Finley, the president of New Jersey College: “I shall die silent. It has pleased God to enable me to bear so many testimonies for Him during my life, that He will require none from me when I die.” Whitefield’s words were strangely verified. In this respect, his death was a contrast to that of his friend Wesley.Whitefield was interred on Tuesday, October 2. “At one o’clock, all the bells in Newbury Port were tolled for half an hour, and all the ships in the harbour hoisted signals of mourning. At two o’clock, the bells tolled a second time. At three o’clock, the bells called to attendthefuneral.”678Meanwhile, a large number of ministers had assembled at the manse ofMr.Parsons, and had spent two hours in conversation respecting Whitefield’s usefulness, and in prayer that his mantle might fall on them and others. The pall-bearers were theRevs.Samuel Haven,D.D., of Portsmouth; Daniel Rogers, of Exeter; Jedediah Jewet and James Chandler, of Rowley; Moses Parsons, of Newbury; and Edward Bass,D.D.,679the first bishop of the Church of England in Massachusetts. The funeral procession was a mile in length. About 6,000 persons crowded within the church, and many thousands stoodoutside.680The corpse being placed at the foot of the pulpit, theRev.Daniel Rogers offered prayer, in which he confessed that he owed his conversion to Whitefield’s ministry, and then exclaiming, “O my Father! my Father!” stopped and wept as though his heart was breaking. The scene was one never to be forgotten. The crowded congregation were bathed in tears. Rogers recovered himself, finished his prayer, sat down, andsobbed.681One of the deacons gave out the hymn beginning with the line,—“Why do we mourn departing friends?”Some of the people sang, and some wept, and others sang and wept alternately. The coffin was then put into a newly prepared tomb, beneath the pulpit; and, before the tomb was sealed, theRev.Jedediah Jewet delivered a suitable address, in the course of which he spoke of Whitefield’s “peculiar and eminent gifts for the gospel ministry, and his fervour, diligence, and success in the work of it.” “What a friend,” cried Jewet, “he has been to us, and our interests, religious and civil; to New England, and to all the British colonies on thecontinent!”682After this, another prayer was offered, and the immense crowd departed, weeping through the streets, as in mournful groups they wended their way to their respectivehomes.683The sensation occasioned by the sudden decease of the “man greatly beloved” was enormous. The people came in crowds, begging to be allowed to see his corpse. Ministers of all denominations hastened to the house ofMr.Parsons, where several of them related how his ministry had been the means of their conversion. Two days before his death, he had preached at Portsmouth, and one of his hearers was a young man named Benjamin Randall, then unconverted, and also cherishing a dislike to Whitefield. “O how wonderful he spoke!” wrote Randall. His soul inflamed with love, his arms extended, and tears rolling from his eyes—with what power he spoke!” At noon on Sunday, a stranger was seen riding through the streets of Portsmouth, and crying at the different corners, “Whitefield is dead! Whitefield is dead!” Young Randall heard the announcement. It pierced his heart. He afterwards wrote: “It was September 30, 1770—that memorable day! that blessed day to Whitefield! that blessed day to me! A voice sounded through my soul, more loud and startling than ever thunder pealed upon my ears, ‘Whitefield is dead!’ Whitefield is now in heaven, but I am on the road to hell. He was a man of God, and yet I reviled him. He taught me the way to heaven, but I regarded it not. O that I could hear his voice again!” Whitefield’s death led to Randall’s conversion. He became a Baptist minister, andfoundedthe Free-Will Baptist denomination, which now numbers sixty thousand church members, more than a thousand ministers, two colleges, and one theological seminary; and also has its weekly periodicals, itsQuarterly Review, and its flourishing missions inIndia.684The effect of Whitefield’s death upon the inhabitants of Georgia was indescribable. All the black cloth in the colony was bought up. The pulpit and desk, the chandeliers and organ, the pews of the Governor and Council in the church at Savannah were draped with mourning; and theGovernor and members of the two Houses of Assembly went in procession to the church, and were received by the organ playing a funerealdirge.685A sum of money also was unanimously voted for the removal of Whitefield’s remains to Georgia, to be interred at his Orphan House; but the people of Newbury Port strongly objected, and the design had to be relinquished. Forty-five years later, however, when a new county was formed in Georgia, it received the name of Whitefield, in memory of his worth and usefulservices.686Jesse Lee, in his “History of the American Methodists,” (page 36,) remarks: “Mr.Whitefield had often felt his soul so much comforted in preaching in the Presbyterian meeting-house at Newbury Port, that he told his friends long before his death, that, if he died in that part of the world, he wished to be buried under the pulpit of that house. The people, who remembered his request, had it now in their power to grant it; and they prepared a vault under the pulpit, where they laid his body.” During the last hundred years, thousands of persons have visited that vault; and, as time flows on, the numbers still increase. TheChristian’s Magazine, for 1790, inserted a startling letter, written by “J. Brown, of Epping, Essex,” to the following effect:—
“The ruins,” writesDr.Stevens, “the only memorial of a great and benevolent scheme, were also the memento of the great Methodist evangelist. If the ostensible design of the institution had failed, it had accomplished a greater result which was destined never to fail; for it had been the centre of American attraction to its founder, had prompted his thirteen passages across the Atlantic, and had thus led to those extraordinary travels and labours, from Georgia to Maine, which quickened with spiritual life the Protestantism of the continent, and opened the career of Methodism in the westernhemisphere.”656
“The ruins,” writesDr.Stevens, “the only memorial of a great and benevolent scheme, were also the memento of the great Methodist evangelist. If the ostensible design of the institution had failed, it had accomplished a greater result which was destined never to fail; for it had been the centre of American attraction to its founder, had prompted his thirteen passages across the Atlantic, and had thus led to those extraordinary travels and labours, from Georgia to Maine, which quickened with spiritual life the Protestantism of the continent, and opened the career of Methodism in the westernhemisphere.”656
We return to Whitefield’s history. After the auditing of his Orphan House accounts, he went to Charleston, where he remained about a month. He was now in better health than he had been for many years, and was “enabled to preach almost every day.” The establishment of his College, however, was still a great anxiety. In a letter toMr.Keen, dated “Charleston, February 10, 1770,” he wrote:—
“I have, more than once, conversed with the Governor of Georgia, in the most explicit manner, concerning an Act of the Assembly for the establishment of the intended Orphan House College. He most readily consents. I have shewn him a draught, which he much approves of; and all will be finished on my return from the northward. Meanwhile, the buildingswill be carried on. Since my being in Charleston, I have shewn the draught to some persons of great eminence and influence. They highly approve of it, and willingly consent to be some of the wardens: near twenty are to be of Georgia, about six of this place, one of Philadelphia, one of New York, one of Boston, three of Edinburgh, two of Glasgow, and six of London. Those of Georgia and South Carolina are to be qualified; the others to be only honorary corresponding wardens.”
“I have, more than once, conversed with the Governor of Georgia, in the most explicit manner, concerning an Act of the Assembly for the establishment of the intended Orphan House College. He most readily consents. I have shewn him a draught, which he much approves of; and all will be finished on my return from the northward. Meanwhile, the buildingswill be carried on. Since my being in Charleston, I have shewn the draught to some persons of great eminence and influence. They highly approve of it, and willingly consent to be some of the wardens: near twenty are to be of Georgia, about six of this place, one of Philadelphia, one of New York, one of Boston, three of Edinburgh, two of Glasgow, and six of London. Those of Georgia and South Carolina are to be qualified; the others to be only honorary corresponding wardens.”
In the same month, Wesley wrote to Whitefield; and, because the letter happened to be the last he addressed to his old friend, and because it expressed Wesley’s opinions respecting the intended College, it shall be given at full length.
“Lewisham,February 21, 1770.“My dear Brother,—Mr.Keen informed me some time since of your safe arrival in Carolina; of which, indeed, I could not doubt for a moment, notwithstanding the idle report of your being cast away, which was so current in London. I trust our Lord has more work for you to do in Europe, as well as in America. And who knows, but, before your return to England, I may pay another visit to the New World? I have been strongly solicited by several of our friends in New York and Philadelphia. They urge many reasons, some of which appear to be of considerable weight; and my age is no objection at all; for, I bless God, my health is not barely as good, but abundantly better in several respects, than when I was five-and-twenty. But there are so many reasons on the other side, that as yet I can determine nothing: so I must wait for further light. Here I am: let the Lord do with me as seemeth Him good. For the present, I must beg of you to supply my lack of service, by encouraging our preachers as you judge best, who are as yet comparatively young andinexperienced;657by giving them such advices as you think proper; and, above all, by exhorting them, not only to love one another, but, if it be possible, as much as lies in them, to live peaceably with all men.“Some time ago, since you went hence, I heard a circumstance which gave me a good deal of concern; namely, that the College or Academy in Georgia had swallowed up the Orphan House. Shall I give my judgment without being asked? Methinks, friendship requires I should. Are there not, then, two points which come in view—a point of mercy, and a point of justice? With regard to the former, may it not be inquired, Can anything on earth be a greater charity, than to bring up orphans? What is a college or an academy compared to this? unless you could have such a college as perhaps is not upon earth. I know the value of learning, and am more in danger of prizing it too much, than too little. But, still, I cannot place the giving it to five hundred students, on a level with saving the bodies, if not the souls too, of five hundred orphans. But let us pass from the point of mercy to that of justice. You had land given, and collectedmoney, for an Orphan House. Are you at liberty to apply this to any other purpose,—at least, while there are any orphans in Georgia left? I just touch upon this, though it is an important point, and leave it to your own consideration, whether part of it, at least, might not properly be applied to carry on the original design.“In speaking thus freely, I have given you a fresh proof of the sincerity with which I am your ever affectionate friend and brother,“John Wesley.”658
“Lewisham,February 21, 1770.
“My dear Brother,—Mr.Keen informed me some time since of your safe arrival in Carolina; of which, indeed, I could not doubt for a moment, notwithstanding the idle report of your being cast away, which was so current in London. I trust our Lord has more work for you to do in Europe, as well as in America. And who knows, but, before your return to England, I may pay another visit to the New World? I have been strongly solicited by several of our friends in New York and Philadelphia. They urge many reasons, some of which appear to be of considerable weight; and my age is no objection at all; for, I bless God, my health is not barely as good, but abundantly better in several respects, than when I was five-and-twenty. But there are so many reasons on the other side, that as yet I can determine nothing: so I must wait for further light. Here I am: let the Lord do with me as seemeth Him good. For the present, I must beg of you to supply my lack of service, by encouraging our preachers as you judge best, who are as yet comparatively young andinexperienced;657by giving them such advices as you think proper; and, above all, by exhorting them, not only to love one another, but, if it be possible, as much as lies in them, to live peaceably with all men.
“Some time ago, since you went hence, I heard a circumstance which gave me a good deal of concern; namely, that the College or Academy in Georgia had swallowed up the Orphan House. Shall I give my judgment without being asked? Methinks, friendship requires I should. Are there not, then, two points which come in view—a point of mercy, and a point of justice? With regard to the former, may it not be inquired, Can anything on earth be a greater charity, than to bring up orphans? What is a college or an academy compared to this? unless you could have such a college as perhaps is not upon earth. I know the value of learning, and am more in danger of prizing it too much, than too little. But, still, I cannot place the giving it to five hundred students, on a level with saving the bodies, if not the souls too, of five hundred orphans. But let us pass from the point of mercy to that of justice. You had land given, and collectedmoney, for an Orphan House. Are you at liberty to apply this to any other purpose,—at least, while there are any orphans in Georgia left? I just touch upon this, though it is an important point, and leave it to your own consideration, whether part of it, at least, might not properly be applied to carry on the original design.
“In speaking thus freely, I have given you a fresh proof of the sincerity with which I am your ever affectionate friend and brother,
“John Wesley.”658
Wesley’s letter, though it may lack Whitefield’s gushing lovingness, is the letter of a fond and faithful friend, and fully proves that, to the last, the two great evangelists were not rivals, as some have represented them, but affectionate and confiding fellow-workers. Whitefield dearly loved Wesley, and by his actions shewed he did; and Wesley equally felt for Whitefield warm affection. “In every place,” said he, after Whitefield’s death, “I wish to shew all possible respect to the memory of that great and goodman.”659“I believe he was highly favoured of God; yea, that he was one of the most eminent ministers that has appeared in England, or perhaps in the world, during the presentcentury.”660
Early in the month of March, Whitefield returned to Bethesda, where he continued till near the end of April. In a letter toMr.Keen, he wrote:—
“Savannah,March 11, 1770.“My very dear worthy Friend,—Blessed be God, the good wine seemed to be kept till the last at Charleston. Last Thursday” (March 8) “I returned, and found all well at Bethesda. I am come to town to preach this morning, though somewhat fatigued with being on the water three nights. Upon the whole, however, I am better in health than I have been for many years. Praise the Lord, O mysoul!”661
“Savannah,March 11, 1770.
“My very dear worthy Friend,—Blessed be God, the good wine seemed to be kept till the last at Charleston. Last Thursday” (March 8) “I returned, and found all well at Bethesda. I am come to town to preach this morning, though somewhat fatigued with being on the water three nights. Upon the whole, however, I am better in health than I have been for many years. Praise the Lord, O mysoul!”661
Further extracts from letters toMr.Keen will pourtray Whitefield’s views and feelings at this period of his history. He was happy in a luxuriant wilderness.
“Bethesda, April 6, 1770. How glad would many be to see ourGoshen, ourBethel, ourBethesda! Never did I enjoy such domestic peace, comfort,and joy, during my whole pilgrimage. It is unspeakable, it is full of glory. Peace, unutterable peace, attends our paths, and a pleasing prospect of increasing prosperity is continually rising to our view. I have lately taken six poor children, and purpose to add greatly to their number. DearMr.Dixon and his wife are to sail next month for Portsmouth. We part with great respect. Fain would I retain such an old, tried, disinterested friend, in the service of the sanctuary, and near my person; but what scheme to pursue I know not, being so uncertain as to the path I shall be called to take. A few months will determine: perhaps a few weeks.”“Bethesda, April 16, 1770. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! All is well, all more than well here! Never, never did I enjoy such domestic peace and happiness. I have taken in about ten orphans. Prizes! prizes! Hallelujah! Join, join in praising Him whose mercy endureth for ever! If possible, I shall write a line to the Welsh brethren. They have indeed sustained a loss in the death ofMr.Howell Davies. God sanctify it! Surely my turn will comeby-and-by.”662“Bethesda, April 20, 1770. We enjoy a little heaven upon earth here. With regret, I go northward, as far as Philadelphia at least, next Monday. Everything concurs to shew me, that Bethesda affairs must go on, as yet, in their old channel. A few months may open strange scenes. O for a spirit of love and moderation on all sides, and on both sides of the water! In all probability, I shall not return hither till November. Was ever man blessed with such a set of skillful, peaceful, laborious helpers! O Bethesda, my Bethel, my Peniel! My happiness is inconceivable. Nine or ten orphans have been lately taken in. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Let chapel, tabernacle, heaven, and earth, resound with hallelujah!”“Savannah, April 24, 1770. Five in the morning. I am just going into the boat, in order to embark for Philadelphia. This will prove a blessed year for me, at the day of judgment. Hallelujah! Come, Lord, come!Mr.Robert Wright is a quiet, ingenuous, good creature, and his wife an excellent mistress of the family. Such a set of helpers I never met with. They will go on with the buildings, while I take my gospel range to the northward.”
“Bethesda, April 6, 1770. How glad would many be to see ourGoshen, ourBethel, ourBethesda! Never did I enjoy such domestic peace, comfort,and joy, during my whole pilgrimage. It is unspeakable, it is full of glory. Peace, unutterable peace, attends our paths, and a pleasing prospect of increasing prosperity is continually rising to our view. I have lately taken six poor children, and purpose to add greatly to their number. DearMr.Dixon and his wife are to sail next month for Portsmouth. We part with great respect. Fain would I retain such an old, tried, disinterested friend, in the service of the sanctuary, and near my person; but what scheme to pursue I know not, being so uncertain as to the path I shall be called to take. A few months will determine: perhaps a few weeks.”
“Bethesda, April 16, 1770. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! All is well, all more than well here! Never, never did I enjoy such domestic peace and happiness. I have taken in about ten orphans. Prizes! prizes! Hallelujah! Join, join in praising Him whose mercy endureth for ever! If possible, I shall write a line to the Welsh brethren. They have indeed sustained a loss in the death ofMr.Howell Davies. God sanctify it! Surely my turn will comeby-and-by.”662
“Bethesda, April 20, 1770. We enjoy a little heaven upon earth here. With regret, I go northward, as far as Philadelphia at least, next Monday. Everything concurs to shew me, that Bethesda affairs must go on, as yet, in their old channel. A few months may open strange scenes. O for a spirit of love and moderation on all sides, and on both sides of the water! In all probability, I shall not return hither till November. Was ever man blessed with such a set of skillful, peaceful, laborious helpers! O Bethesda, my Bethel, my Peniel! My happiness is inconceivable. Nine or ten orphans have been lately taken in. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Let chapel, tabernacle, heaven, and earth, resound with hallelujah!”
“Savannah, April 24, 1770. Five in the morning. I am just going into the boat, in order to embark for Philadelphia. This will prove a blessed year for me, at the day of judgment. Hallelujah! Come, Lord, come!Mr.Robert Wright is a quiet, ingenuous, good creature, and his wife an excellent mistress of the family. Such a set of helpers I never met with. They will go on with the buildings, while I take my gospel range to the northward.”
Whitefield had now left his beloved Bethesda for ever. He arrived in Philadelphia on Sunday, the6thof May, and met with the missionaries of his old friend Wesley,Messrs.Boardman and Pilmoor, whom he encouraged to proceed to their arduouswork.663Writing toMr.Keen, he says:—
“Philadelphia, May 9, 1770. I arrived here on the6thinstant. The evening following, I was enabled to preach to a large auditory, and am to repeat the delightful task this evening. Pulpits and hearts seem to be as open to me as ever. Praise the Lord, O our souls! I have my old plan in view, to travel in these northern parts all summer, and return late in the fall to Georgia. Through infinite mercy, I continue in good health, and am more and more in love with a pilgrim life.”“Philadelphia, May 24, 1770. I have now been here nearly three weeks. People of all ranks flock as much as ever. Impressions are made on many, and, I trust, they will abide. To all theEpiscopal Churches, as well as to most of the other places of worship, I have free access. My health is preserved; and, though I preach twice on the Lord’s-day, and three or four times a week besides, I am rather better than I have been for many years. This is the Lord’s doing. To Him be all the glory!”
“Philadelphia, May 9, 1770. I arrived here on the6thinstant. The evening following, I was enabled to preach to a large auditory, and am to repeat the delightful task this evening. Pulpits and hearts seem to be as open to me as ever. Praise the Lord, O our souls! I have my old plan in view, to travel in these northern parts all summer, and return late in the fall to Georgia. Through infinite mercy, I continue in good health, and am more and more in love with a pilgrim life.”
“Philadelphia, May 24, 1770. I have now been here nearly three weeks. People of all ranks flock as much as ever. Impressions are made on many, and, I trust, they will abide. To all theEpiscopal Churches, as well as to most of the other places of worship, I have free access. My health is preserved; and, though I preach twice on the Lord’s-day, and three or four times a week besides, I am rather better than I have been for many years. This is the Lord’s doing. To Him be all the glory!”
Three weeks after this, Whitefield wrote again toMr.Keen:—
“Philadelphia, June 14, 1770. I have just returned from a hundred and fifty miles’ circuit, in which I have been enabled to preach every day. So many new, as well as old, doors are open, and so many invitations sent from various quarters, that I know not which way to turn myself. However, at present I am bound for New York, and so on further northward.”
“Philadelphia, June 14, 1770. I have just returned from a hundred and fifty miles’ circuit, in which I have been enabled to preach every day. So many new, as well as old, doors are open, and so many invitations sent from various quarters, that I know not which way to turn myself. However, at present I am bound for New York, and so on further northward.”
He arrived at New York on Saturday, June 23, and, in another letter toMr.Keen, remarked:—
“New York, June 30, 1770. I have been here just a week. Have been enabled to preach four times, and am to preach again this evening. Congregations are larger than ever. Next week, I purpose to go to Albany: from thence, perhaps, to the Oneida Indians. There is to be a very large Indian congress.Mr.Kirkland accompanies me. He is a truly Christian minister and missionary. Everything possible should be done to strengthen his hands and his heart.”
“New York, June 30, 1770. I have been here just a week. Have been enabled to preach four times, and am to preach again this evening. Congregations are larger than ever. Next week, I purpose to go to Albany: from thence, perhaps, to the Oneida Indians. There is to be a very large Indian congress.Mr.Kirkland accompanies me. He is a truly Christian minister and missionary. Everything possible should be done to strengthen his hands and his heart.”
A word must be interposed respecting this valuable man. Samuel Kirkland had been educated inDr.Wheelock’s school, and in New Jersey College. While at school, he hadlearned the language of the Mohawks; and, in 1764, commenced a journey to the Senecas, among whom he spent a year and a half. In 1766, he was ordained a missionary to the Indians; and, in 1769, removed with his wife to the Oneida tribe, for whose benefit he laboured more than forty years. His son,Dr.Kirkland, became president of Harvard College. No wonder Whitefield fell in love with such a man. Unfortunately, no record of his visit to the “Indian congress” now exists; but an idea of his enormous labours may be gathered from the following letter toMr.Keen:—
“New York, July 29, 1770. During this month, I have been above a five hundred miles’ circuit, and have been enabled to preach every day. The congregations have been very large, attentive, and affected, particularly at Albany, Schenectady, Great Barrington, Norfolk, Salisbury, Sharon, Smithfield, Powkeepsy, Fishkill, New Rumburt, New Windsor, and Peckshill. Last night, I returned hither, and hope to set out for Boston in two or three days. O what a new scene of usefulness is opening in various parts of this new world! All fresh work where I have been. The Divine influence has been as at the first. Invitations crowd upon me, both from ministers and people, from many, many quarters. A very peculiar providence led me lately to a place where a horse-stealer was executed. Thousands attended. The poor criminal, hearing I was in the country, had sent me several letters. The sheriff allowed him to come and hear a sermon under an adjacent tree. Solemn! solemn! After being by himself about an hour, I walked half a mile with him to the gallows. His heart had been softened before my first visit. He seemed full of Divine consolations. An instructive walk! I went up with him into the cart. He gave a short exhortation. I then stood upon the coffin; added, I trust, a word in season; prayed; gave the blessing; and took my leave. I hope effectual good was done to the hearers and spectators.”
“New York, July 29, 1770. During this month, I have been above a five hundred miles’ circuit, and have been enabled to preach every day. The congregations have been very large, attentive, and affected, particularly at Albany, Schenectady, Great Barrington, Norfolk, Salisbury, Sharon, Smithfield, Powkeepsy, Fishkill, New Rumburt, New Windsor, and Peckshill. Last night, I returned hither, and hope to set out for Boston in two or three days. O what a new scene of usefulness is opening in various parts of this new world! All fresh work where I have been. The Divine influence has been as at the first. Invitations crowd upon me, both from ministers and people, from many, many quarters. A very peculiar providence led me lately to a place where a horse-stealer was executed. Thousands attended. The poor criminal, hearing I was in the country, had sent me several letters. The sheriff allowed him to come and hear a sermon under an adjacent tree. Solemn! solemn! After being by himself about an hour, I walked half a mile with him to the gallows. His heart had been softened before my first visit. He seemed full of Divine consolations. An instructive walk! I went up with him into the cart. He gave a short exhortation. I then stood upon the coffin; added, I trust, a word in season; prayed; gave the blessing; and took my leave. I hope effectual good was done to the hearers and spectators.”
While travelling this “five hundred miles’ circuit,” Whitefield, one day, dined, with a number of ministers, at the manse of his old friend, theRev.William Tennent. After dinner, as often happened, Whitefield expressed his joy at the thought of soon dying and being admitted into heaven; and, then, appealing to the ministers present, he asked if his joy was shared by them. Generally they assented; but Tennent continued silent. “Brother Tennent,” said Whitefield, “you are the oldest man among us. Do you not rejoice that your being called home is so near at hand?” “I have no wish about it,” bluntly answered Tennent. Whitefield pressed his question, and Tennent again replied, “No, sir, it is no pleasureto me at all; and, if you knew your duty, it would be none to you. I have nothing to do with death. My business is to live aslongas I can, and aswellas I can.” Whitefield was not satisfied, and a third time urged the good old man to state, whether he would not choose to die, if death were left to his own choice. “Sir,” answered Tennent, “I have no choice about it. I am God’s servant, and have engaged to do His business as long as He pleases to continue me therein. But now, brother Whitefield, let me ask you a question. What do you think I would say, if I were to send my man Tom into the field to plough, and if at noon I should find him lounging under a tree, and complaining, ‘Master, the sun is hot, and the ploughing hard, and I am weary of my work, and overdone with heat: do, master, let me go home and rest’? What would I say? Why, that he was a lazy fellow, and that it was his business to do the work I had appointed him, until I should think fit to call him home.” For the present, at least, Whitefield was silenced, and was taught, that it is every Christian man’s duty to say, “All the days of my appointed time will I wait till my changecome.”664
Whitefield’s preaching was never more popular and powerful than now. Sharon has been mentioned in the foregoing extract. The minister here was theRev.Cotton Mather Smith, who offered him his pulpit. Whitefield selected his favourite subject, and preached from, “Ye must be born again.” The immense congregation was moved and melted throughout, but the pronunciation of the concluding words of the sermon, it is said, produced a life-time impression on those who heard them: “Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon this garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into this garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.” (Solomon’s Song,iv.16.) Simple words, but uttered in a manner and with a pathos which thrilled the enormous crowd, and which caused many of them to follow him into the adjacent towns for several successivedays.665
Another anecdote may be inserted here. An eminentshipbuilder being invited to hear Whitefield, at first made several objections, but at last was persuaded to go. “What do you think ofMr.Whitefield?” asked his friend. “Think,” said he, “I never heard such a man in my life. I tell you, sir, every Sunday, when I go to church, I can build a ship from stem to stern, under the sermon; but, were it to save my soul, underMr.Whitefield, I could not lay a singleplank.”666
Whitefield sailed from New York on Tuesday, July31st, and arrived at New Port on the Friday following. With the exception of six days, on five of which he was seriously ill, he preached daily until he died. From August4thto8thinclusive, he preached at New Port; August9thto12th, at Providence; August13th, at Attleborough; and14th, at Wrentham. With the exception of the19th, when he discoursed at Malden, he officiated every day at Boston, from the15thto the25th. On August26th, he preached at Medford; on the27th, at Charlestown; and on the28th, at Cambridge. The next two days were employed at Boston; August31st, at Roxbury Plain; September1st, at Milton;2nd, at Roxbury;3rd, at Boston;5th, at Salem;6th, at Marble Head;7th, at Salem;8th, at Cape Ann;9th, at Ipswich;10thand11th, at Newbury Port; and12thand13th, at Rowley. On the14thand two following days, he was disabled by violent diarrhœa. From September17thto19th, he again preached at Boston; and on the20th, at Newton. The next two days he was ill, but managed to travel from Boston to Portsmouth, where he preached on the23rdto the25th.667The26th, he employed at Kittery; the27th, at Old York; the28th, at Portsmouth; and the29th, atExeter.668At six o’clock in the morning of the30th, he died.
Thus were spent the last two months of Whitefield’s life. He was too much occupied to have time for his wonted correspondence with his friends; but there are two letters, belonging to this interval, which must be quoted: the first toMr.Wright, his manager at Bethesda; the second to his beloved and faithful friend,Mr.Keen, of London.
“Boston,September 17, 1770.“DearMr.Wright,—Blessed be God! I find all is well at Bethesda; only I want to know what things are needed, that I may order them from Philadelphia, by Captain Souder. Fain would I contrive to come by him, but people are so importunate for my stay in these parts, that I fear it will be impracticable. Lord Jesus, direct my goings in Thy way! He will, He will! My God will supply all my wants, according to the riches of His grace in Christ Jesus. Two or three evenings ago, I was taken in the night with a violent lax, attended with retching and shivering, so that I was obliged to return to Boston. Through infinite mercy, I am restored, and to-morrow morning hope to beginto beginagain. Never was the word received with greater eagerness than now. All opposition seems, as it were, for a while to cease. I find God’s time is the best. The season is critical as to outward circumstances. But when forts are given up, the Lord Jesus can appoint salvation for walls and bulwarks. He has promised to be a wall of fire round about His people. This comforts me concerning Bethesda, though we should have a Spanish war. You will be pleased to hear I never was carried through the summer’s heat so well. I hope it has been so with you, and all my family. Hoping ere long to see you, I am,etc.,“George Whitefield.”
“Boston,September 17, 1770.
“DearMr.Wright,—Blessed be God! I find all is well at Bethesda; only I want to know what things are needed, that I may order them from Philadelphia, by Captain Souder. Fain would I contrive to come by him, but people are so importunate for my stay in these parts, that I fear it will be impracticable. Lord Jesus, direct my goings in Thy way! He will, He will! My God will supply all my wants, according to the riches of His grace in Christ Jesus. Two or three evenings ago, I was taken in the night with a violent lax, attended with retching and shivering, so that I was obliged to return to Boston. Through infinite mercy, I am restored, and to-morrow morning hope to beginto beginagain. Never was the word received with greater eagerness than now. All opposition seems, as it were, for a while to cease. I find God’s time is the best. The season is critical as to outward circumstances. But when forts are given up, the Lord Jesus can appoint salvation for walls and bulwarks. He has promised to be a wall of fire round about His people. This comforts me concerning Bethesda, though we should have a Spanish war. You will be pleased to hear I never was carried through the summer’s heat so well. I hope it has been so with you, and all my family. Hoping ere long to see you, I am,etc.,
“George Whitefield.”
The letter toMr.Keen, written only seven days before Whitefield’s death, was to the following effect:—
“Portsmouth, New Hampshire,September 23, 1770.“My very dear Friend,—By this time, I thought to be moving southward: but never was greater importunity used to detain me longer in these northern parts. Poor New England is much to be pitied; Boston people most of all. How falsely misrepresented! What a mercy that our Christian charter cannot be dissolved! Blessed be God for an unchangeable Jesus! You will see, by the many invitations enclosed, what a door is opened for preaching His everlasting gospel. I was so ill on Friday, that I could not preach, though thousands were waiting to hear. Well, the day of release will shortly come, but it does not seem yet; for,by riding sixty miles, I am better, and hope to preach here to-morrow. I hope my blessed Master will accept of these poor efforts to serve Him. O for a warm heart! O to stand fast in the faith, to quit ourselves like men, and to be strong! May this be the happy experience of you and yours! If spared so long, I expect to see Georgia about Christmas. Still pray and praise. I am so poorly, and so engaged when able to preach, that this must apologize for not writing to more friends. It is quite impracticable. Hoping to see all dear friends about the time proposed, and earnestly desiring a continued interest in all your prayers, I must hasten to subscribe myself,“My dear, very dear sir,“Less than the least of all,“George Whitefield.”
“Portsmouth, New Hampshire,September 23, 1770.
“My very dear Friend,—By this time, I thought to be moving southward: but never was greater importunity used to detain me longer in these northern parts. Poor New England is much to be pitied; Boston people most of all. How falsely misrepresented! What a mercy that our Christian charter cannot be dissolved! Blessed be God for an unchangeable Jesus! You will see, by the many invitations enclosed, what a door is opened for preaching His everlasting gospel. I was so ill on Friday, that I could not preach, though thousands were waiting to hear. Well, the day of release will shortly come, but it does not seem yet; for,by riding sixty miles, I am better, and hope to preach here to-morrow. I hope my blessed Master will accept of these poor efforts to serve Him. O for a warm heart! O to stand fast in the faith, to quit ourselves like men, and to be strong! May this be the happy experience of you and yours! If spared so long, I expect to see Georgia about Christmas. Still pray and praise. I am so poorly, and so engaged when able to preach, that this must apologize for not writing to more friends. It is quite impracticable. Hoping to see all dear friends about the time proposed, and earnestly desiring a continued interest in all your prayers, I must hasten to subscribe myself,
“My dear, very dear sir,
“Less than the least of all,
“George Whitefield.”
This was Whitefield’s last letter; at all events, no letter of a subsequent date has been published.
Though Whitefield scarcely alludes to the circumstance, it ought to be noted, that, the last six months of his life were spent in the midst of great political excitement. It is a well-known fact, that the inhabitants of the British colonies in America strongly objected to pay taxes upon goods imported from England; and defended themselves by the famous aphorism, “Taxation, without representation, is tyranny.” So stout was their resistance, that, during the year 1769, the exports of English merchants fell short of what they had been to the value of three-quarters of a million sterling; and, since the year 1767, the revenue, received by government from duties paid in America, had decreased from£110,000 to£30,000. In consequence of this state of things, Lord North, on the5thof March, 1770, moved in the House of Commons for leave to bring in a bill to repeal all the American taxes and duties, except the duty upon tea. Great debates followed. On the1stof May, the opposition called for the correspondence with the American colonies. Eight days later, Burke moved eight resolutions censuring the plan the government were pursuing. On the14thof May, Chatham moved that, in consequence of “the alarming disorders in his Majesty’s American dominions,” an humble address be presented to the king, beseeching him “to take the recent and genuine sense of the people, by dissolving this present parliament, and calling another, with all convenient dispatch.”
So much as it regards England. In America, the excitementhad become dangerous. In nearly all the principal seaports of the colonies, committees had been appointed, by the people, to examine cargoes arriving from Great Britain, and to prevent the sale of taxed commodities. At Boston, meetings were regularly held, and strong votes of censure passed upon every one who dared to introduce or sell any of the prohibited goods; and, still further to increase the odium and danger of such departures from the popular will, the names of offenders were published in the newspapers, with comments representing them as slaves and traitors.
As might naturally be expected, riots followed. In the month of February, 1770, the shop of Theophilus Lillie was attacked. A friend of Lillie’s seized a gun, and fired upon the assailants. The shot killed Christopher Snider, a dirty boy, who, as “the first martyr to the glorious cause of liberty,” was buried with great pomp, the procession which followed the young reformer to his grave being a quarter of a mile in length. In the meantime, the inhabitants of Boston, and the soldiers quartered there, were perpetually quarrelling. No man in a red coat could go through the streets without being insulted, and no discipline could prevent the soldiers from retorting. Words led to blows. On the2ndof March, a private of the29thRegiment got into a quarrel, and was beaten by a set of ropemakers. A dozen of the soldier’s comrades chastised the ropemakers, and made them run for their very lives. The townspeople were exasperated, and armed themselves with clubs. Meetings were held by the mob; and, on the5thof March, a crowd, with sticks and clubs, marched to Dock Square, and made an attack upon the soldiers. Muskets were fired, and the rioters ran away; but three were killed, and five were dangerously wounded. The subject need not here be pursued at greater length. In point of fact, the American Rebellion was begun, and, during the last six months of his eventful life, Whitefield preached among the excited and angry discontents. In some degree, he evidently sympathised with their protests concerning their grievances; and, hence, the exclamations in his last letter toMr.Keen: “Poor New England is much to be pitied! Boston people most of all! How falsely misrepresented!” No doubt,both sides were misrepresented. The hour was pregnant with the most disastrous events. For years afterwards, the roar and ravages of war were terrific. Fortunately for himself, Whitefield escaped to the land of love, and peace, and blessedness, while the storm was only gathering, and before it burst in all its devastating deadliness.
On Saturday morning, September 29, Whitefield set out from Portsmouth to Boston, with the intention of preaching at Newbury Port next morning. On the way, he was stopped at Exeter, fifteen miles from Portsmouth, and was prevailed upon to give a sermon to the people there. A friend said to him, “Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to preach.” “True, sir,” replied Whitefield; and then, clasping his hands, and looking up to heaven, he added, “Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy work, but not of it. If I have not yet finished my course, let me go and speak for Thee once more in the fields, seal Thy truth, and come home and die!” An immense multitude assembled. He mounted ahogshead.669His text was, “Examine yourselves, whether you be in the faith.” One, who was present, thus described the preacher and his sermon:—
“The subject was ‘Faith and works.’ He rose up sluggishly and wearily, as if worn down and exhausted by his stupendous labours. His face seemed bloated, his voice was hoarse, his enunciation heavy. Sentence after sentence was thrown off in rough, disjointed portions, without much regard to point or beauty. At length, his mind kindled, and his lion-like voice roared to the extremities of his audience. He was speaking of the inefficiency of works to merit salvation, and suddenly cried out in a tone of thunder, ‘Works! works! a man get to heaven by works! I would as soon think of climbing to the moon on a rope ofsand!’”670
“The subject was ‘Faith and works.’ He rose up sluggishly and wearily, as if worn down and exhausted by his stupendous labours. His face seemed bloated, his voice was hoarse, his enunciation heavy. Sentence after sentence was thrown off in rough, disjointed portions, without much regard to point or beauty. At length, his mind kindled, and his lion-like voice roared to the extremities of his audience. He was speaking of the inefficiency of works to merit salvation, and suddenly cried out in a tone of thunder, ‘Works! works! a man get to heaven by works! I would as soon think of climbing to the moon on a rope ofsand!’”670
Another gentleman, who was present, wrote:—
“Mr.Whitefield rose, and stood erect, and his appearance alone was a powerful sermon. He remained several minutes unable to speak; and then said, ‘I will wait for the gracious assistance of God; for He will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in His name.’ He then delivered, perhaps, one of his best sermons. ‘I go,’ he cried, ‘I go to rest prepared; my sun has arisen, and by aid from heaven, has given light to many. It is now about to set for—no, it is about to rise to the zenith of immortalglory. I have outlived many on earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Oh, thought divine! I soon shall be in a world where time, age, pain, and sorrow are unknown. My body fails, my spirit expands. How willingly would I live for ever to preach Christ! But I die to bewithHim.’”671
“Mr.Whitefield rose, and stood erect, and his appearance alone was a powerful sermon. He remained several minutes unable to speak; and then said, ‘I will wait for the gracious assistance of God; for He will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in His name.’ He then delivered, perhaps, one of his best sermons. ‘I go,’ he cried, ‘I go to rest prepared; my sun has arisen, and by aid from heaven, has given light to many. It is now about to set for—no, it is about to rise to the zenith of immortalglory. I have outlived many on earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Oh, thought divine! I soon shall be in a world where time, age, pain, and sorrow are unknown. My body fails, my spirit expands. How willingly would I live for ever to preach Christ! But I die to bewithHim.’”671
Whitefield’s sermon was two hours in length,—characteristic of the man, but, in his present health, quite enough to kill him.
TheRev.Jonathan Parsons, who, for the last twenty-four years, had been the Presbyterian minister at Newbury Port, met him at Exeter. In piety, the two were kindred spirits.Mr.Parsons’ congregation was one of the largest in America. As a preacher, he was eminently useful; his imagination was rich, and his voice clear and commanding. He was well skilled in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages; and many were the seals of his faithful ministry, which closed six years after that of his friend Whitefield’s.
After Whitefield’s enormous sermon, the two friends dined at Captain Gillman’s, and then started for Newbury Port. On arriving there, Whitefield was so exhausted, that he was unable to leave the boat without assistance, but, in the course of the evening, he recovered hisspirits.672
Newbury Port was an ordinary New England village; in fact, it remains such at the present day,—its streets narrow, and not overcrowded with either traffic orpassengers.673It is a remarkable coincidence, that,exactlythirty years before his death, Whitefield, for the first time, visited the place which contains his sepulchre. In his Journal, he wrote:—
“Tuesday, September 30, 1740. Preached at Ipswich in the morning to many thousands. There was a great melting in the congregation. Dined. Set out for Newbury, another town twelve miles from Ipswich, and arrived about three. Here again the power of the Lord accompanied the word. The meeting-house was very large. Many ministers were present, and the people were greatly affected. Blessed be God!”
“Tuesday, September 30, 1740. Preached at Ipswich in the morning to many thousands. There was a great melting in the congregation. Dined. Set out for Newbury, another town twelve miles from Ipswich, and arrived about three. Here again the power of the Lord accompanied the word. The meeting-house was very large. Many ministers were present, and the people were greatly affected. Blessed be God!”
Little did the great preacher think, that, on the same day, thirty years afterwards, his work would terminate in themeeting-house’s manse. The venerable building still stands, in a narrow lane, and, though now used as two comfortable residences, the spacious entrance hall yet exists, and likewise the fine oak staircase which led to the room in which Whitefielddied.674
While Whitefield partook of an early supper, the people assembled at the front of the parsonage, and even crowded into its hall, impatient to hear a few words from the man they so greatly loved. “I am tired,” said Whitefield, “and must go to bed.” He took a candle, and was hastening to his chamber. The sight of the people moved him; and, pausing on the staircase, he began to speak to them. He had preached his last sermon; this was to be his last exhortation. There he stood, the crowd in the hall “gazing up at him with tearful eyes, as Elisha at the ascending prophet. His voice flowed on until the candle which he held in his hand burned away andwent out in its socket! The next morning he was not, for God had takenhim!”675
Mr.Richard Smith, who had accompanied Whitefield from England, and had attended him in his journeyings, followed him to his chamber. He found him reading the Bible, and withDr.Watts’s Psalms before him. Whitefield drank some water-gruel, knelt by his bedside, engaged in prayer, and then went to rest. He slept till two in the morning, when he asked for cider, and drank a wine-glassful.
“He panted for want of breath,” saysMr.Smith. “I asked him how he felt. He answered, ‘My asthma is returning; I must have two or three days’ rest. Two or three days’ riding, without preaching, will set me up again.’ Though the window had been half up all night, he asked me to put it a little higher. ‘I cannot breathe,’ said he, ‘but I hope I shall be better by-and-by. A good pulpit sweat to-day may give me relief. I shall be better after preaching.’ I said to him, I wished he would not preach so often. He replied, ‘I had rather wear out, than rust out.’ He then sat up in bed and prayed that God would bless his preaching where he had been, and also bless his preaching that day, that more souls might be brought to Christ. He prayed for direction, whether he should winter at Boston, or hasten southward. He asked for blessings on his Bethesda College and his family there; likewise on the congregations at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court chapel, and on all his English friends.“He then lay down to sleep again. This was nigh three o’clock. At a quarter to four he awoke, and said, ‘My asthma, my asthma is coming on again. I wish I had not promised to preach at Haverhill to-morrow. I don’t think I shall be able; but I shall see what to-day will bring forth. If I am no better to-morrow, I will take a two or three days’ ride.’ He then asked me to warm him a little gruel; and, in breaking the firewood, I awokeMr.Parsons, who rose and came in. He went toMr.Whitefield’s bedside, and asked him how he felt. He answered, ‘I am almost suffocated. I can scarce breathe. My asthma quite chokes me.’ He got out of bed, and went to the open window for air. This was exactly at five o’clock. Soon after, he turned to me, and said, ‘I am dying.’ I said, ‘I hope not, sir.’ He ran to the other window, panting for breath, but could get no relief. I went forDr.Sawyer; and, on my coming back, I saw death on his face. We offered him warm wine with lavender drops, which he refused. I persuaded him to sit down and put on his cloak; he consented by a sign, but could not speak. I then offered him the glass of warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed as if it would have stopped his breath entirely. In a little while, he brought up a considerable quantity of phlegm. I was continually employed in taking the mucus from his mouth, bathing his temples, and rubbing his wrists. His hands and feet were as cold as clay. When the doctor came, and felt his pulse, he said, ‘He is a dead man.’Mr.Parsons replied, ‘I do not believe it. You must do something, doctor.’ He answered, ‘I cannot. He is now near his lastbreath.’676And indeed so it proved; for he fetched but one gasp, stretched out his feet, and breathed no more. This was exactly at sixo’clock.”677
“He panted for want of breath,” saysMr.Smith. “I asked him how he felt. He answered, ‘My asthma is returning; I must have two or three days’ rest. Two or three days’ riding, without preaching, will set me up again.’ Though the window had been half up all night, he asked me to put it a little higher. ‘I cannot breathe,’ said he, ‘but I hope I shall be better by-and-by. A good pulpit sweat to-day may give me relief. I shall be better after preaching.’ I said to him, I wished he would not preach so often. He replied, ‘I had rather wear out, than rust out.’ He then sat up in bed and prayed that God would bless his preaching where he had been, and also bless his preaching that day, that more souls might be brought to Christ. He prayed for direction, whether he should winter at Boston, or hasten southward. He asked for blessings on his Bethesda College and his family there; likewise on the congregations at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court chapel, and on all his English friends.
“He then lay down to sleep again. This was nigh three o’clock. At a quarter to four he awoke, and said, ‘My asthma, my asthma is coming on again. I wish I had not promised to preach at Haverhill to-morrow. I don’t think I shall be able; but I shall see what to-day will bring forth. If I am no better to-morrow, I will take a two or three days’ ride.’ He then asked me to warm him a little gruel; and, in breaking the firewood, I awokeMr.Parsons, who rose and came in. He went toMr.Whitefield’s bedside, and asked him how he felt. He answered, ‘I am almost suffocated. I can scarce breathe. My asthma quite chokes me.’ He got out of bed, and went to the open window for air. This was exactly at five o’clock. Soon after, he turned to me, and said, ‘I am dying.’ I said, ‘I hope not, sir.’ He ran to the other window, panting for breath, but could get no relief. I went forDr.Sawyer; and, on my coming back, I saw death on his face. We offered him warm wine with lavender drops, which he refused. I persuaded him to sit down and put on his cloak; he consented by a sign, but could not speak. I then offered him the glass of warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed as if it would have stopped his breath entirely. In a little while, he brought up a considerable quantity of phlegm. I was continually employed in taking the mucus from his mouth, bathing his temples, and rubbing his wrists. His hands and feet were as cold as clay. When the doctor came, and felt his pulse, he said, ‘He is a dead man.’Mr.Parsons replied, ‘I do not believe it. You must do something, doctor.’ He answered, ‘I cannot. He is now near his lastbreath.’676And indeed so it proved; for he fetched but one gasp, stretched out his feet, and breathed no more. This was exactly at sixo’clock.”677
Thus died the most popular and powerful evangelist of modern times, on Sunday morning, September 30, 1770. “I shall die silent,” remarked Whitefield at the dinner table of Finley, the president of New Jersey College: “I shall die silent. It has pleased God to enable me to bear so many testimonies for Him during my life, that He will require none from me when I die.” Whitefield’s words were strangely verified. In this respect, his death was a contrast to that of his friend Wesley.
Whitefield was interred on Tuesday, October 2. “At one o’clock, all the bells in Newbury Port were tolled for half an hour, and all the ships in the harbour hoisted signals of mourning. At two o’clock, the bells tolled a second time. At three o’clock, the bells called to attendthefuneral.”678Meanwhile, a large number of ministers had assembled at the manse ofMr.Parsons, and had spent two hours in conversation respecting Whitefield’s usefulness, and in prayer that his mantle might fall on them and others. The pall-bearers were theRevs.Samuel Haven,D.D., of Portsmouth; Daniel Rogers, of Exeter; Jedediah Jewet and James Chandler, of Rowley; Moses Parsons, of Newbury; and Edward Bass,D.D.,679the first bishop of the Church of England in Massachusetts. The funeral procession was a mile in length. About 6,000 persons crowded within the church, and many thousands stoodoutside.680The corpse being placed at the foot of the pulpit, theRev.Daniel Rogers offered prayer, in which he confessed that he owed his conversion to Whitefield’s ministry, and then exclaiming, “O my Father! my Father!” stopped and wept as though his heart was breaking. The scene was one never to be forgotten. The crowded congregation were bathed in tears. Rogers recovered himself, finished his prayer, sat down, andsobbed.681One of the deacons gave out the hymn beginning with the line,—
“Why do we mourn departing friends?”
Some of the people sang, and some wept, and others sang and wept alternately. The coffin was then put into a newly prepared tomb, beneath the pulpit; and, before the tomb was sealed, theRev.Jedediah Jewet delivered a suitable address, in the course of which he spoke of Whitefield’s “peculiar and eminent gifts for the gospel ministry, and his fervour, diligence, and success in the work of it.” “What a friend,” cried Jewet, “he has been to us, and our interests, religious and civil; to New England, and to all the British colonies on thecontinent!”682After this, another prayer was offered, and the immense crowd departed, weeping through the streets, as in mournful groups they wended their way to their respectivehomes.683
The sensation occasioned by the sudden decease of the “man greatly beloved” was enormous. The people came in crowds, begging to be allowed to see his corpse. Ministers of all denominations hastened to the house ofMr.Parsons, where several of them related how his ministry had been the means of their conversion. Two days before his death, he had preached at Portsmouth, and one of his hearers was a young man named Benjamin Randall, then unconverted, and also cherishing a dislike to Whitefield. “O how wonderful he spoke!” wrote Randall. His soul inflamed with love, his arms extended, and tears rolling from his eyes—with what power he spoke!” At noon on Sunday, a stranger was seen riding through the streets of Portsmouth, and crying at the different corners, “Whitefield is dead! Whitefield is dead!” Young Randall heard the announcement. It pierced his heart. He afterwards wrote: “It was September 30, 1770—that memorable day! that blessed day to Whitefield! that blessed day to me! A voice sounded through my soul, more loud and startling than ever thunder pealed upon my ears, ‘Whitefield is dead!’ Whitefield is now in heaven, but I am on the road to hell. He was a man of God, and yet I reviled him. He taught me the way to heaven, but I regarded it not. O that I could hear his voice again!” Whitefield’s death led to Randall’s conversion. He became a Baptist minister, andfoundedthe Free-Will Baptist denomination, which now numbers sixty thousand church members, more than a thousand ministers, two colleges, and one theological seminary; and also has its weekly periodicals, itsQuarterly Review, and its flourishing missions inIndia.684
The effect of Whitefield’s death upon the inhabitants of Georgia was indescribable. All the black cloth in the colony was bought up. The pulpit and desk, the chandeliers and organ, the pews of the Governor and Council in the church at Savannah were draped with mourning; and theGovernor and members of the two Houses of Assembly went in procession to the church, and were received by the organ playing a funerealdirge.685A sum of money also was unanimously voted for the removal of Whitefield’s remains to Georgia, to be interred at his Orphan House; but the people of Newbury Port strongly objected, and the design had to be relinquished. Forty-five years later, however, when a new county was formed in Georgia, it received the name of Whitefield, in memory of his worth and usefulservices.686
Jesse Lee, in his “History of the American Methodists,” (page 36,) remarks: “Mr.Whitefield had often felt his soul so much comforted in preaching in the Presbyterian meeting-house at Newbury Port, that he told his friends long before his death, that, if he died in that part of the world, he wished to be buried under the pulpit of that house. The people, who remembered his request, had it now in their power to grant it; and they prepared a vault under the pulpit, where they laid his body.” During the last hundred years, thousands of persons have visited that vault; and, as time flows on, the numbers still increase. TheChristian’s Magazine, for 1790, inserted a startling letter, written by “J. Brown, of Epping, Essex,” to the following effect:—