"GLOUCESTER, _June 23, 1736_.
"Never a poor creature set up with so small a stock. When the
good Bishop Benson announced last year, in his visitation
charge, that he would ordain none under three and twenty, my
heart leaped for joy. I thought I should have time (as my
intention was) to make at least a hundred sermons, with which to
begin my ministry. But so far from this being the case, I have
not a single one, except that which I made for a small Society,
and which I sent to a neighbouring clergyman, to convince him
how unfit I was to take upon me the important work of preaching.
He kept it for a fortnight, and then sent it back with a guinea
for the loan of it, telling me he had divided it into two, and
had preached it morning and evening to his congregation. With
this sermon I intend to begin, God willing, next Sunday, not
doubting but that He, who increased a little lad's loaves and
fishes for the feeding of a great multitude, will, from time to
time, supply me with spiritual food for whatever congregations
He, in His all-wise providence, shall be pleased to call me
to. Help, help me, my dear friend, with your warmest addresses
to the throne of grace. At present, this is the language of my
heart--
"'A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
Into Thy hands I fall;
Be Thou my strength, my righteousness,
My Jesus, and my all.'
"Oh, cease not to pray for
"Yours, etc.,
"GEORGE WHITEFIELD."
To another friend, he wrote, on June 26th, "To-morrow I am to preach
at Crypt, but, believe me, I shall displease some, being determined
to speak against their assemblies. But I must tell them the
truth, or otherwise I shall not be a faithful minister of Christ."
To-morrow came. Whitefield preached his first sermon; and, three
days afterwards, wrote as follows:--
"GLOUCESTER, _June 30, 1736_.
"MY DEAR FRIEND,--Glory! glory! glory be ascribed to an
Almighty, Triune God. Last Sunday, in the afternoon, I preached
my first sermon in the Church of St. Mary de Crypt, where I
was baptized, and also first received the sacrament of the
Lord's Supper. Curiosity, as you may easily guess, drew a
large congregation together. The sight at first a little awed
me; but I was comforted with a heartfelt sense of the Divine
presence, and soon found the unspeakable advantage of having
been accustomed to public speaking when a boy at school, and of
exhorting and teaching the prisoners, and poor people at their
private houses, whilst at the University. By these means, I was
kept from being daunted over-much. As I proceeded, I perceived
the fire kindled, till at last, though so young, and amidst a
crowd who knew me in my childish days, I trust I was enabled to
speak with some degree of gospel authority. A few mocked, but
most for the present seemed struck; and I have since heard that
a complaint has been made to the bishop that I drove fifteen
mad. The worthy prelate, as I am informed, wished that the
madness might not be forgotten before next Sunday."
Thus did the renowned evangelist begin his ministry. Great was
the effect produced. A few mocked; but most of the congregation
displayed profound emotion, and, to use the slang of the young
preacher's enemies, "fifteen were driven mad." Bishop Benson himself
was probably not present; but the next day Whitefield wrote, "Our
good bishop was pleased to give me another present of five guineas,
a great supply for one who had not a guinea in the world."
The reader can easily imagine the scene in the Church of St. Mary de
Crypt, where the usual congregations, as in most other churches at
that period, were far from overflowing. Now there was a crowd--of
whom? old men, who, in years long since past, had been boon
companions of Whitefield's father; aged women, who remembered him
when he was a tiny infant in his mother's arms; topers, not a few,
whom, as a blue-aproned tapster, he had served in the neighbouring
public-house; schoolfellows with whom he had been associated in
many a merry spree; and a mingled multitude who knew him only as
a Gloucester boy, who, by his own exertions, had made himself an
honour to his native town. And what about the preacher? There
he stands, in a position which he had never occupied before, in
diaconal gown and bands, somewhat awed by the multitude before him,
and by a conviction of the responsibility of the office which he was
now assuming; but, at the same time, nerved with fidelity to his
Master, and comforted by a consciousness that God was with him; his
stature above the middle height--slender, and yet well-proportioned;
his manner graceful; his features regular; his complexion fair; his
eyes small, lively, and of a dark-blue colour, one of them with a
squint, occasioned by the measles in his childhood days; his voice
unusual, both in melody and strength, and its fine modulations
accompanied by the exquisite action of an accomplished orator. No
wonder that one of his uneducated hearers said "he preached like a
lion." The comparison was far from perfect. It expressed the force
and vehemence of that oratory which awed his hearers, and made them
tremble like Felix before Paul; but it failed to convey an idea of
the fervent and melting charity, the earnestness of persuasion, and
the outpouring of redundant love, which characterised the preaching
of this youthful evangelist for the next four and thirty years.[58]
[58] See "Life and Times of Countess of Huntingdon," vol. ii. p. 355.
The subject of his first sermon was, "The Necessity and Benefit
of Religious Society;"[59] probably the same sermon he afterwards
preached before the Religious Societies, at one of their quarterly
meetings, in Bow Church, London, and which was immediately
published. "I shall displease some," said Whitefield in a letter
already quoted, "for I am determined to speak against their
_assemblies_." How he fulfilled his determination will be seen by
the following extract from his sermon:--
"I warn you of the great danger those are in, who, either by
their subscriptions, presence, or approbation, promote Societies
of a quite opposite nature to religion. And here I would not be
understood to mean only those public meetings which are designed
manifestly for nothing else but revellings and banquetings,
for chambering and wantonness, and at which a modest _heathen_
would blush to be present; but also those seemingly _innocent_
entertainments and meetings which the _politer_ part of the
world are so very fond of, and spend so much time in; but
which, notwithstanding, keep as many persons out of a sense
of _true religion_ as intemperance, debauchery, or any other
crime whatever. Indeed, whilst we are in this world, we must
have proper relaxations, to fit us both for the business of
our profession and religion. But then, for persons who call
themselves _Christians_, that have solemnly vowed at their
_baptism_, to renounce the _vanities_ of this sinful world, and
that are commanded in Scripture to '_abstain from all appearance
of evil_,' and to have their '_conversation in heaven_,'--for
such persons as these to support meetings that (to say no worse
of them) are vain and trifling, and have a natural tendency to
draw off our minds from God, is absurd, ridiculous, and sinful."
[59] Whitefield's Life and Journals, 1756, p. 24.
This certainly was plain speaking in the first sermon of a young
man only a little more than twenty-one years of age; but it is
exactly what might be expected from an Oxford Methodist; and
something like it is greatly needed, and would be highly useful in
the pulpits of the present day. Would that preachers now had more
of the uncompromising, bold, conscientious fidelity that marked the
young evangelist among his townsmen in the Church of St. Mary de
Crypt, Gloucester! Prophets "prophesy smooth things; and the people
love to have it so." It was otherwise with Whitefield. "I must tell
them the truth," said he to his friend only a few hours before he
preached his first sermon, "I must tell them the truth, or I shall
not be a faithful minister of Christ." From this he never swerved.
To the end of life it was one of his great guiding principles.
It often brought upon him the ridicule of wicked wits, and the
displeasure of many who imagined themselves Christians; but to all
this Whitefield was indifferent. His Master was Christ; and, "to his
own Master," he was determined to stand or fall (Rom. xiv. 4). Not
long before his death, he said, "I remember when I began to speak
against baptismal regeneration--in my first sermon, printed when I
was about twenty-two years old, or a little more--the first quarrel
many had with me was because I did not say that all people who were
baptized were born again. I would as soon believe the doctrine of
transubstantiation. Can I believe that a person who, from the time
of his baptism to the time, perhaps, of his death, never fights
against; the world, the flesh, and the devil, and never minds one
word of what his god-fathers and god-mothers promised for him, is a
real Christian? No, I can as soon believe that a little wafer in the
hands of a priest is the very blood and bones of Jesus Christ."[60]
[60] Eighteen Sermons, by G. Whitefield, 1771, p. 351.
So much then in reference to Whitefield's notable sermon in the
Church of St. Mary de Crypt, on June 27th, 1736,--the first of
upwards of eighteen thousand which he preached before he died.[61]
[61] _Gospel Magazine_, 1776, p. 443.
On June 30th, he returned to Oxford, "where," he says, "I was
received with great joy by my religious friends. For about a week,
I continued in my servitor's habit, and then took my degree of
Bachelor of Arts. My dear and honoured friends, the Reverend Messrs.
John and Charles Wesley, being now for some time embarked for
Georgia, and one or two more having taken orders, the interest of
Methodism, as it was then and is now termed, had visibly declined,
and very few of this reputed mad way were left at the University.
This somewhat discouraged me at times, but the Lord Jesus supported
my soul, and made me easy by giving me a strong conviction that I
was where He would have me to be. I soon found my degree was of
service to me, as it gave me access to those I could not be free
with when in an inferior situation; and, as opportunity offered, I
was enabled to converse with them about the things which belonged
to the kingdom of God. The subscriptions for the poor prisoners,
which amounted to about £40 per annum, were soon put into my hands.
Two or three small charity schools, maintained by the Methodists,
were under my more immediate inspection; which, with the time I
spent in following my studies, private retirement, and religious
converse, sweetly filled up the whole of my day, and kept me from
the too common complaint of having any time hang upon my hands.
The distributing money and books amongst the poor prisoners, and
employing such as could work, I found was of admirable service. For
hereby they were kept from that worst of gaol diseases--idleness;
and were not only convinced that we bore a good will towards
them, but also led them, as it were, under an obligation to hear
the instructions we gave them. This practice was first taken up
by the Messrs. Wesley; and would to God all ordinaries of prisons
would copy their good example! They would deserve well of the
Commonwealth, and if actuated by the love of God, would receive a
glorious reward from Him, who hath said, 'I was sick and in prison,
and ye came unto me.'"[62]
[62] "Further Account of God's Dealings with George Whitefield,
1747," p. 6.
* * * * *
Whitefield was happy--happy in himself, in his associates, in his
work, and in his hope of heaven. A week after his arrival at Oxford,
he wrote:--
"The very idea of what we are to be in glory transports me.
There, there, we shall see the blessed Jesus, whom our souls
have so eagerly thirsted after in this life, surrounded with
glory, and attended with myriads of His holy angels, who will
rejoice at our safe arrival to their holy mansions, and with
repeated echoes will welcome us to heaven. There, there,
we shall not only see, but live with Him, not for a day, a
month, a year, an age, but to all eternity. And who can tell
the pleasure, comfort, peace, joy, delight, and transport a
glorified saint will feel in the possession of his wished-for,
longed-for, ever adorable, ever gracious, blessed, beloved
triune God, and that for ever? Surely the happiness will be so
great, that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither can the
heart of man conceive the thousandth part thereof."
For a few weeks Whitefield devoted himself to the work of
endeavouring to benefit the prisoners in Oxford gaol; and then wrote
as follows:--
"I began to be more than content in my present state of life,
and had thoughts of abiding at the University, at least for some
years, to finish my studies, and do what good I could amongst
the poor despised Methodists. But, by a series of unforeseen,
unexpected, and unsought-for providences, I was called from
my beloved retirement to take a journey to the Metropolis.
Whilst I was an undergraduate, I was very intimate with one
Mr. Broughton,[63] a professed Methodist, who had lately taken
orders, and was curate at the Tower of London. With him, when
absent, I frequently corresponded; and, when present, we took
sweet counsel together, and walked to the house of God as
friends. Being called down into Hampshire, he wrote me to be
of good courage, and bid me hasten to town to officiate in his
absence. Accordingly, on Wednesday, August 4th, (the prisoners
being provided for by the coming of Mr. Hervey,[64] another
young worthy Methodist, who had lately taken Deacon's Orders,)
with fear and trembling, I obeyed the summons, and went in
the stage coach to London. There being no other passenger, I
employed myself a good part of the way in earnest supplication
to the God of all grace to be my guide and comforter. In the
evening, I reached the Tower, and was kindly received by my dear
friend. The remainder of the week was spent in visiting Sir
John Philips, etc., who were too glad to see me. But God sent
me something to ballast it; for, as I passed along the streets,
many came out of their shops to see so young a person in a gown
and cassock; and one cried out, 'There's a boy parson;' which
served to mortify my pride, and put me also upon turning the
apostolical exhortation into prayer, 'Let no man despise thy
youth.'"[65]
[63] The Rev. Thomas Broughton, afterwards for many years the
secretary of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge.
[64] The Rev. James Hervey, afterwards Rector of Weston-Favel, and
author of the well-known "Meditations and Contemplations," etc.
[65] "Further Account of God's Dealings with Mr. George Whitefield,
1747," p. 7.
Whitefield remained two months in London, and preached his first
sermon there, on Sunday, August 8th, in Bishopsgate-street Church.
"As I went up the pulpit stairs," says he, "almost all seemed to
sneer at me on account of my youth; but they soon grew serious and
exceedingly attentive, and, after I came down, shewed me great
tokens of respect, blessed me as I passed along, and made great
enquiry who I was."[66]
[66] _Ibid._, p. 8.
During his residence in the metropolis, Whitefield's work in the
Tower was to read prayers twice a week, catechize and preach once,
and visit the soldiers in the infirmary and barracks daily. But,
besides this, he read prayers every evening at Wapping Chapel, and
preached in Ludgate prison every Tuesday. The chapel in the Tower
was crowded every Sunday, numbers of "religious friends," and
"several young men," coming "from divers parts of London," to hear
him "discourse about the new birth and the necessity of renouncing
all in affection in order to follow Jesus Christ."
When he had been about a month in town, letters came from the
Wesley brothers, and from Ingham, their fellow-labourer in
Georgia. Whitefield's soul was fired, and he longed to join them.
He consulted his friends; but they "all agreed that labourers
were needed at home; that, as yet, he had no visible call to go
abroad; and that it was his duty not to be rash, but to wait and
see what Providence might point out to him." For the time being,
this contented him; and, Mr. Broughton having returned to London,
Whitefield went back to his charge at Oxford.[67]
[67] "Further Account of God's Dealings with George Whitefield,
1747," p. 9.
Meanwhile, he wrote the following characteristic letter to Wesley,
in Georgia, a letter which, though containing several of the facts
already narrated, is too interesting to be omitted or abridged.
"LONDON, _September 2, 1736_.
"VERY DEAR AND REV. SIR,--Being informed by Mr. Hutton that a
ship would soon sail towards your coasts, I thought it would
be unpardonable in me not to write to my spiritual father in
Christ. But what shall I begin with first? How shall I have room
or time to relate to you a thousandth part of those mercies
which God, of His infinite goodness in Christ Jesus, hath
conferred upon me since I wrote last?
"If I mistake not, my last was dated from Gloucester, whence,
after the Lord Jesus had made me an instrument of forming a
Society of some sincere souls, God called me to Oxford again.
From thence, after a stay of three months, I returned to
Gloucester. Directed by Divine Providence, accompanied with the
earnest solicitations of my friends, I entered into holy orders.
O pray, rev. sir, that I may be a faithful minister of Christ.
"You will naturally ask, 'Where hath it pleased God to settle
you?' Hear, rev. sir, and admire the Divine goodness towards the
worst of sinners. My friends had laid a plan, and the Bishop had
united with them, to have me settled in Gloucester. But I made
it my earnest prayer to Almighty God, through Christ, that I
might either not go into orders, or continue at Oxford some time
longer, to fit me for the work of the ministry. God was pleased
to answer this prayer wonderfully; for, upon my return to
Oxford, most of our friends being called away to other parts of
the country, the Lord put it into the heart of our dear friend
Mr. Morgan[68] to inform Sir John Philips of our affairs; who
immediately sent me word that he would allow me £30 a year, if
I would continue at Oxford, and superintend the affairs of the
Methodists. Providence directed me to accept of his kind offer:
accordingly, I preach every Sunday to the prisoners, and follow
your steps as close as possible.
[68] Doubtless, Charles Morgan, one of the Oxford Methodists.
"I am now at London, supplying the place of dear Mr. Broughton,
who is curate at the Tower; he being gone to Dummer, in
Hampshire, to assist dear Mr. Hutchins,[69] who is gone to put
his brother under the care of pious Mr. Clayton.[70]
[69] Another Oxford Methodist, afterwards _Doctor_ Richard
Hutchins, Rector of Lincoln College, Oxford.
[70] The Rev. John Clayton, also an Oxford Methodist, who became
Chaplain and Fellow of the Collegiate Church, Manchester.
"Sir John Philips is very much in our interest, and a blessed
instrument of supplying our wants, and of encouraging us in our
weak endeavours to promote the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ. But few friends are left at Oxford; yet the Lord
hath given me great encouragement out of His holy word, and I
hope that some gownsmen will yet be added to our number. The
greatest opposition comes from the laity at present. Yet, there
is much good done. Our fellow-students are pretty quiet, though
our names stink among them. The Lord make us humble and thankful!
"The stock for the prisoners is put into my hands. The Lord give
me wisdom and grace to distribute it as I ought.
"Farewell, rev. and dear sir. God be with you, and prosper you
in all your undertakings. May you be made a happy instrument of
converting the Gentiles. And, after you have served your blessed
Master the appointed time on earth, may you sit down with Him in
eternal rest and glory in heaven.
"I am, etc.,
"GEORGE WHITEFIELD."[71]
[71] Life of C. Wesley, vol. i., p. 70.
About the beginning of the month of October, 1736, Whitefield
returned to his "poor prisoners" at Oxford. He writes:--
"Oh what a delightful life did I lead here! What communion did I
daily enjoy with God! How sweetly did my hours in private glide
away, in reading and praying over Mr. Henry's Comment upon the
Scriptures! Nor was I alone happy; for several dear youths were
quickened greatly, and met daily at my room to build up each
other in their most holy faith."[72]
[72] "Further Account of God's Dealings with George Whitefield,
1747," p. 9.
Who were the youths in question? They evidently were new converts,
and therefore cannot be included among the Oxford Methodists raised
up prior to Wesley's embarkation for Georgia. Whitefield has left us
in the dark respecting their names and their future life; but is it
not reasonable to infer that, as several of Wesley's friends ran an
illustrious career, so Whitefield's collegiate converts were also
honoured, by the great Head of the Church, in turning men from sin
to holiness, and from the power of Satan unto God? We know something
of the immense results of the influence exerted by Wesley upon young
men at Oxford, but are entirely ignorant of the subsequent history
of those whom Whitefield gathered together after Wesley left
for Georgia. Some of them were poor, and were indebted for their
maintenance, at least in part, to that woman of singular excellence,
the Lady Betty Hastings,[73] sister of the ninth Earl of Huntingdon,
whose remarkable dowager became Whitefield's chief friend and
patroness. Whitefield writes concerning his young associates and
himself:--
"God raised up friends for our temporal support. The late
Honourable Betty Hastings, that elect lady, allowed some of them
two or three small exhibitions. I also partook of her ladyship's
bounty; and a gentleman, whose heart was in an especial manner
knit to me when in London, was stirred up, without being
solicited, to send me not only money for the poor, but also a
sufficiency to discharge debts I had contracted for books before
I took my degree. Upon his recommendation, also, I was chosen
a corresponding member of the Society for Promoting Christian
Knowledge, which I rejoiced in, as it gave me an opportunity of
procuring books at a cheap and easy rate for the poor people."
[73] Mr. Barnard says, "She was a lady of exactest breeding, of fine
intellectual endowments, filled with Divine wisdom, renewed in the
spirit of her mind, fired with the love of her Creator, a friend of
all the world, mortified in soul and body and to everything that is
earthly, and little lower than the angels." ("Historical Character
of Lady Elizabeth Hastings," by Thomas Barnard, M.A., p. 95.) She
died on December 22, 1739, in the fifty-seventh year of her age.
("Life and Times of Countess of Huntingdon," vol. i., p. 249.)
Whitefield's life at Oxford was useful and happy. He loved the
place, and was as reluctant to leave it as his friend Wesley had
been twelve months before; and yet his work here was now nearly
ended. Six weeks after his return from London, he again took
his departure, and henceforth lived the life of an evangelistic
wanderer. He writes:--
"About the middle of November" (1736) "I was once more called
from my beloved, though little, scene of action. The Rev.
Mr. Kinchin, now with God,[74] had lately been awakened, and
accordingly resolved to associate with the despised Methodists.
He was then minister of Dummer, in Hampshire; and, being likely
to be chosen Dean of Corpus Christi College, he desired me to
come and officiate for him, till that affair should be decided.
By the advice of friends I went, and he came to supply my place
at Oxford. His parish consisting chiefly of poor and illiterate
people,[75] my proud heart could not well brook it. I would
have given all the world for one of my Oxford friends, and
mourned for lack of them, as a dove that has lost her mate. But
upon giving myself to prayer, and reading Mr. Law's excellent
character of _Ouranius_, in his "Serious Call to a Devout
Life," my mind was reconciled to such conversation as the place
afforded me. Before I came to Dummer, Mr. Kinchin had used his
people, according to the rubric, to have public prayers twice
a day, namely, in the morning, it being winter season, before
it was light; and in the evening after the people returned from
their work. He also catechised the lambs of the flock daily,
and visited from house to house. He loved his people, and was
beloved by them. I prosecuted his plan, and generally divided
the day into three parts--eight hours for study and retirement,
eight hours for sleep and meals, and eight hours for reading
prayers, catechising, and visiting the parish. The profit I
reaped by these exercises, and conversing with the poor country
people, was unspeakable. I frequently learnt as much by an
afternoon's visit as in a week's study."
[74] The Rev. Charles Kinchin died January 4, 1742.
[75] The population of Dummer, even as late as 1801, was only 286.
Whitefield returned to Oxford on June 30, and purposed to spend
"some years" in that sect of learning; but already he had been two
months in London, and was now at Dummer, officiating for his friend
Kinchin. During his six weeks' residence in this small Hampshire
village, two events occurred, one or other of which was likely to
affect the whole of his future life. First, he had the offer of
"a very profitable curacy in London." Had he accepted this, he
probably, instead of becoming one of the illustrious evangelists of
the eighteenth century, would have settled down into an earnest and
useful, but unknown, pastor of a parochial church and congregation.
The offer, to a penniless young parson, was a tempting one; and the
wonder is that it was not eagerly embraced. Whitefield was not only
without means, but was actually in debt. On November 5, just before
he went to Dummer, he wrote to his friend Harris, the Gloucester
bookseller, "Herewith I have sent you £7, to pay for Mr. Henry's
Commentary. Dear Squire Thorold lately made me a present of ten
guineas; so that now (for ever blessed be the Divine goodness!) I
can send you more than I thought I should be able to do. In time I
hope to pay the apothecary's bill." The man was without purse and
scrip; and yet, strangely enough, he declined the offer of the "very
profitable curacy" which had been made to him.
The other event was the return of Charles Wesley from Georgia.
Charles landed in England on December 3; and, on December 22, wrote
in his journal: "I received a letter from Mr. Whitefield, offering
himself to go to Georgia."[76] What happened during this brief
interval of nineteen days? Whitefield shall relate his own story. He
says:--
"About the middle of December, a letter came from Mr. Broughton
informing me that Mr. Charles Wesley was arrived at London.
Soon after came a letter from Mr. Charles himself, wherein he
informed me that he was come over to procure labourers; but,
added he, 'I dare not prevent God's nomination.' In a few days
after this came another letter from Mr. John Wesley, wherein
were these words--'Only Mr. Delamotte is with me, till God
shall stir up the hearts of some of His servants, who, putting
their lives in His hands, shall come over and help us, where
the harvest is so great, and the labourers so few. What if thou
art the man, Mr. Whitefield?' In another letter were these
words--'Do you ask me what you shall have? Food to eat, and
raiment to put on; a house to lay your head in, such as your
Lord had not; and a crown of glory that fadeth not away.' Upon
reading this, my heart leaped within me, and, as it were, echoed
to the call. Many things concurred to make my way clear. Mr.
Kinchin was now elected Dean of Corpus Christi College, and
being thereby obliged to reside at Oxford, he willingly took
upon him the charge of the prisoners. Mr. Hervey was ready to
serve the cure at Dummer. Mr. Wesley was my dear friend, and I
thought it would be a great advantage to be under his tuition.
Georgia was an infant, and likely to be an increasing colony;
and the Government seemed to have its welfare much at heart. I
had heard many Indians were near it, and had thought it a matter
of great importance that serious clergymen should be sent there.
Retirement and privacy were what my soul delighted in. A voyage
to sea would, in all probability, not do my constitution much
hurt; nay, I had heard that the sea was sometimes beneficial to
weakly people. And supposing the worst, as I must necessarily
return to take priests' orders, it would then be left to my
choice whether I would fix in my native country or go abroad
any more. These things being thoroughly weighed, I at length
resolved to embark for Georgia; and knowing that I should never
put my resolution into practice, if I conferred with flesh and
blood, I wrote to my relations to inform them of my design,
and withal told them, 'if they would promise not to dissuade
me from my intended voyage, I would come and take a personal
leave of them; if otherwise, knowing my own weakness, I was
determined to embark without visiting them at all.' A few days
after, Mr. Kinchin came to Dummer, and introduced Mr. Hervey
into the cure. They gave me some friendly counsel; and, having
spent the beginning of Christmas sweetly together, and taken an
affectionate leave of the Dummer people, I returned once more to
Oxford, to bid adieu to my friends, who were as dear to me as
my own soul. My resolution at first a little shocked them; but
having reason to think, from my relation of circumstances, that
I had a call from Providence, most of them said, '_The will of
the Lord be done!_'"[77]
[76] See C. Wesley's Journal, vol. i., p. 59.
[77] "Further Account of God's Dealings with George Whitefield,
1747," p. 12.
The Rubicon was passed. Young Whitefield, at the age of twenty-two,
resolved to be a missionary. In the quietude of a small country
village, he had time to think and to pray about such a calling.
Fortunately, there were no friends at hand, with more affection than
self-denying zeal, ready to interfere with the yearnings of his big
heart of mercy, and to set aside his purpose. True, he had only six
months before resolved to live "some years" at Oxford, to complete
his studies, and to tend his prisoners; but Wesley's characteristic
letter had set his soul on fire, and now he was determined to join
his friend in Georgia.
To Whitefield, the year (1736) had been a most eventful one. The
first three months were spent in Gloucester, partly in forming and
establishing a religious Society; partly in visiting the inmates
of the county gaol; partly in reading authors like Burkitt, Henry,
Baxter, and Alleine; and, to a great extent, in public and private
prayer. There was no prospect of his being admitted into orders,
for he was only twenty-one, and the bishop had publicly declared
that he would ordain no one under twenty-three. Indeed, Whitefield
himself shrank from immediate ordination, and prayed with all his
might against it. In the month of March, he returned to Oxford,
where his friends made him Wesley's successor in the unendowed
chaplaincy of Oxford prison, and where, to his great surprise,
he received from Sir John Philips the offer of a gratuity of £30
a year. In June, he was ordained by Bishop Benson. In July, his
University made him a Bachelor of Arts. In August and September,
the "Boy-Parson" was employed in preaching in London churches and
in London prisons, and with such success that people from all parts
of the vast city began to flock together to hear him. In November,
the youthful preacher, who, to some extent, had startled London,
became the temporary pastor of a pigmy parish of less than three
hundred souls; and here, in the retirement he loved so much, he
suddenly, but not without thought and prayer, determined that he
would embark for Georgia. As soon as possible he hastened back to
Oxford; his collegiate friends, at first, were "a little shocked,"
but afterwards acquiesced; and he himself wrote to Charles Wesley
the following letter--a letter which will fitly close the present
chapter:--
"OXON, _December 30, 1736_.
"DEAREST SIR,--Last night I returned from a weeping flock
at Dummer, and met with a grateful, sweet reception from my
Oxon friends. But, alas! how transient are our visits in this
life! for to-morrow I purpose, God willing, to set out for
Gloucester; or otherwise I shall hardly see the bishop, who, I
hope, will contribute something towards assisting the Americans.
Add to this, that friends promise not to dissuade me from my
enterprise; and I have a brother, I believe, now there, that
comes on purpose to see me; so that all here bid me hasten away.
O may such speedy removes teach me to be every moment ready at
my blessed Master's call; and remind me that I have here no
continuing city, but seek one to come!
"I have great reason to bless God for sending me to Dummer. It
has, I think, been an excellent preparation for Georgia. It has
brought me to live alone, and much improved both my outward and
inward man. I have written to Salmon, and will, God willing,
shortly send to Hall.[78] No one but myself is ready to go from
Oxford. Dear Mr. Hutchins will go hereafter, I believe; but
his time, as yet, is not fully come. I trust God will give me
strength to throw myself blindfold into His hands, and permit
Him to do with me whatsoever seemeth good in His sight. All
friends like the German Hymn admirably. Happy shall I be if my
lot is cast amongst such pious souls;[79] but, I think, God
calls me in a particular manner to assist your brother.
[78] Matthew Salmon and Westley Hall, both of them Oxford
Methodists, who, when the Wesleys went to Georgia, in October,
1735, intended to go with them, but, at the last moment, changed
their minds and remained at home.
[79] The Moravians, who had settled in Georgia.
"My friend will not take it amiss, if I enquire why he chooses
to be secretary to Mr. Oglethorpe, and not rather go where
labourers are so much wanted, in the character of a missionary.
Did the bishop ordain us, my dear friend, to write bonds,
receipts, etc., or to preach the Gospel? Or dare we not trust
God to provide for our relations, without endangering, or at
least retarding, our spiritual improvement? But I go too far.
_Habe me excusatum._ You know I was always heady and self-willed.
"I hear you are to be in Gloucester next week. Will dear Mr.
Charles take a bed with me at Mr. Harris's? I believe he will
be welcome. You will write next post, if convenient, and direct
for me to Mr. Harris's, junior, bookseller, in Gloucester. All
friends here kindly salute and long to see you. Mr. Kinchin is
all heart. Dear Mr. Charles, adieu!--Let us wrestle in prayer
for each other; and believe me to be, dearest sir,
"Your affectionate brother in Christ,
"GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
"P.S.--Is it expedient to go into priest's orders? Tell me, that
I may acquaint the bishop."[80]
[80] Life of C. Wesley, vol. i., p. 97.
_A YEAR OF PREACHING._
1737.
Whitefield wished and expected to embark for Georgia without delay;
but, by a series of unforeseen occurrences, he was detained in
England during the whole of the year 1737. In some respects this
was the most important period of his life. He had transferred the
care of the prisoners at Oxford to Dean Kinchin. James Hervey had
succeeded him in the curacy at Dummer. He had no parochial charge,
and probably he wished for none. At the early age of twenty-two, he
was an episcopally ordained evangelist, ready and eager to preach
whenever and wherever an opportunity of doing so was presented.
The year was spent in a continued succession of public services,
which literally startled the nation. He was a new phenomenon in the
Church of England. All eyes were fixed upon him. His popularity
in Bristol, London, and other places was enormous. His preaching
became the subject of public remark; his name, hitherto almost
entirely unknown, became a household word. Thousands and tens of
thousands were making enquiries concerning him. His position was
perilous. Popular favour might have ruined him; but the grace of
God preserved him. This year's evangelistic labours in England
gave a bias to the whole of his future life. Never afterwards did
he desire church preferment. As an ordained clergyman, the whole
of his subsequent career was irregular. He was a _gospel rover_.
No power on earth could confine him to a single parish or a single
church. He prepared the way for Methodist itinerancy. His marvellous
preaching brought Methodism into a notoriety far greater than it
had hitherto attained. Though Wesley, in learning and in mental
acquirements generally, was much superior to young Whitefield, and
though he was his equal in self-denying and laborious piety, it may
be fairly doubted whether Wesley's preaching in 1739 would have
attracted the attention which it did, if Whitefield had not preceded
him in 1737. Whitefield's appearance, voice, elocution, and pulpit
eloquence, drew around him thousands who, in the first instance,
cared but little about his doctrines. They came to see and hear the
orator; they returned more impressed with _what_ he said, than _how_
he said it. The doctrines of the man soon excited as much attention
as the man himself; and when, in the two years following, his more
sober-minded friends, the Wesley brothers, came preaching the same
great truths, the people--friends and foes--were as eager to hear
them as they previously had been to hear him.
That England needed such a ministry as that of Whitefield and the
Wesleys, no one doubts. It would be the height of bigoted absurdity
to say or to imagine that, when they commenced their marvellous
career, England had no converted ministers except themselves.[81]
The episcopal charges, the sermons, and other publications of the
period, afford ample proof that, in the pulpits of the Church of
England especially, there were a considerable number of not only
able and learned, but thoroughly earnest and godly men. The reader
must not forget that, at this very time, the see of London was
filled by a man (Edmund Gibson), who, in a conscientious discharge
of duty, had offended George the Second, not only by inveighing
from the pulpit against masquerades, to which that monarch was
much attached, but by procuring the signatures of several bishops
to an address to the throne, "praying for the entire abolition of
such pernicious diversions." It is true, that this selfsame bishop,
in 1739, warned the people of his diocese against the enthusiasm
of the Methodists; and, at a later period, published a pamphlet,
in which he animadverted somewhat strongly on "the conduct and
behaviour" of the members of this rising sect; but there is nothing,
in either of the publications just mentioned, contrary to the fact
that Dr. Gibson was an able, earnest, godly man. Besides Gibson,
there was Sherlock, successively bishop of Bangor, Salisbury, and
London, a man of great ability, whose sermons contain fine specimens
of pulpit eloquence, and who was even more eminent for his piety
than his learning. There was the celebrated Dr. Waterland, than
whom orthodoxy never had a more valiant defender, a man of immense
learning, who was once offered a bishopric, but modestly declined
it. There was Bishop Butler, who, while rector of Stanhope, in
1736, published his great work, "The Analogy of Religion, Natural
and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature." There was
Archbishop Secker, the intimate friend of Bishop Butler, and who,
for nearly three years, under an assumed name, carried on with
Wesley a friendly correspondence on some of the most vital truths
of the Christian religion. There was the well-known Dr. Jortin, an
able and voluminous author, and a sincere and devout Christian.
Many others might be mentioned, all learned and deeply pious,
though, perhaps, not preaching with clearness the characteristic
doctrines of the Methodists. Ever since the days of Dr. Horneck and
Bishop Beveridge, there had been in the pulpits of the Established
Church a considerable number of earnest preachers, resembling in
spirit, fidelity, and sentiment, the men who, in 1677, had been the
means of instituting the Religious, or, as they might be termed,
the Pre-Methodist Societies, which had existed and multiplied, in
various parts of the kingdom, during the last sixty years.
[81] "Toplady, in one of his sermons, says, 'I believe no
denomination of professing Christians (the Church of Rome excepted)
were so generally void of the light and life of godliness, so
generally destitute of the doctrine and the grace of the Gospel, as
was the Church of England, considered as a body, about fifty years
ago. At that period, a converted minister in the Establishment was
as great a wonder as a comet.'"--_Southey's Commonplace Book._
The Dissenters, also, were not without talented and useful
ministers. At the very time, when Whitefield commenced his
illustrious career, Dr. Isaac Watts was still rendering important
service to the Church of Christ; Dr. Philip Doddridge was at the
height of his Christian usefulness; Dr. Nathaniel Lardner, the
learned author of the "Credibility of the Gospel History," was
preaching at Crutched Friars; Dr. Samuel Chandler, another able
writer, was lecturer at the Old Jewry Chapel; Daniel Neal, the
historian of the Puritans, was pastor of a congregation in Jewin
Street; and Dr. John Gill, the ultra-Calvinist, was now minister at
Horsley Down, and writing his ponderous commentary on the sacred
Scriptures.
All these were pious, able, useful men. Their service to the cause
of Christ was great. Their names and memories can never perish.
But, notwithstanding all that has just been said, and all that
might be added, there cannot be doubt that England, Ireland, Wales,
and Scotland,--the Established Church, the Presbyterians, and the
Dissenters,--all greatly needed a ministry like that of Whitefield
and his friends, the Oxford Methodists. Speaking generally, to
the churches of the land might have been appropriately applied
the language once addressed to the church in Sardis: "I know thy
works, that thou hast a name that thou livest, and art dead." The
country was filled with abounding wickedness, in its most flagrant
forms; and Christian men were at their wits' end how to stem the
disastrous deluge. The secular press of the period--newspapers
and magazines--contain abundant evidence of this. Extracts and
summaries, to this effect, have already been published in "The Life
and Times of Wesley," and it would be wearisome to repeat them
here; but there is another class of evidence which, without any
repetition, may be fitly introduced.
Almost from the beginning of his career, Whitefield was
_practically_ a Dissenter; and there can hardly be a doubt, that,
directly and indirectly, he was immensely useful in reviving the
religious life of Dissenting churches. What was their condition when
he commenced his ministry? Dr. Watts was now sixty-three years of
age. He had long been the sweet singer of, at least, one branch of
the Dissenting community, and, for forty years, had been pastor of
a congregation in Mark Lane, London, occupying, as their successor,
the pulpit of the Rev. Joseph Caryl, Dr. John Owen, the Rev. David
Clarkson, and Dr. Isaac Chauncey. No man was better qualified to
form a correct estimate of the religious state of the Dissenters
generally than himself. What is his testimony on this grave and
momentous subject? In the year 1731, he published his "Humble
Attempt towards the Revival of Practical Religion among Christians,
by a Serious Address to Ministers and People." The following
remarkable extracts are taken from that publication:--
"Is this a day when we should leave the peculiar articles of the
religion of Christ out of our ministrations, when the truth of
them is boldly called in question and denied by such multitudes
who dwell among us? Is this a proper time for us to forget the
name of Christ in our public labours, when the witty talents and
reasonings of men join together, and labour hard to cast out
His sacred name with contempt and scorn? Is it so seasonable a
practice in this age to neglect these evangelic themes, and to
preach up virtue, without the special principles and motives
with which Christ has furnished us, when there are such numbers
amongst us who are fond of heathenism, who are endeavouring
to introduce it again into a Christian country, and to spread
the poison of infidelity through a nation called by His name?
If this be our practice, our hearers will begin to think that
infidels may have some reason on their side, and that the
glorious doctrines of the gospel of Christ are not so necessary
as our fathers thought them. Will this be our glory, to imitate
the heathen philosophers, and to drop the gospel of the Son of
God? to be complimented by unbelievers as men of superior sense
and as deep reasoners, while we abandon the faith of Jesus, and
starve the souls of our hearers by neglecting to distribute to
them this bread of life which came down from heaven?" (p. 20.)
"The world has been so long imposed upon by shameful additions
of men to the gospel of Christ, that they seem now to be
resolved to bear them no longer. Because so many irrational
notions and follies have been mixed up with the Christian
scheme, it is now a modish humour of the age to renounce
almost everything that reason doth not discover, and to reduce
Christianity itself to little more than the light of nature and
the dictates of reason. Under this sort of influence, there are
some who are believers of the Bible and of the Divine mission
of Christ, and who dare not renounce the gospel itself; and yet
they interpret some of the peculiar and express doctrines of
it, into so poor, so narrow, and so jejune a meaning, that they
suffer but little to remain, beyond the articles of natural
religion" (p. 25).
The two foregoing extracts were addressed to ministers, and are
lamentably appropriate at the present day. The following were
addressed to the people; and, though mostly put in the form of
queries, they are so put as to be equivalent to plain and positive
assertions:--
"The persons whom I would, at this time, compare together, are
the common professors of religion in the Church of England, and
the common professors among Dissenters, the bulk of the people
both on the one side and on the other; and I would fain excite
you, who call yourselves Protestant Dissenters, to bethink
yourselves concerning the sensible decay of real goodness that
is found amongst you, in order to awaken you to the warmest zeal
and utmost endeavours to revive languishing and dying religion"
(p. 56).
"O let it never be said by those who differ from us, and
especially by those who hate us, 'These are the persons who
profess purity in worship, but see how vicious they live!
They are as much given to luxury in diet, to extravagance and
vanity in dress, to everything that is sensual and voluptuous,
or gay and vain, as any of us who do not make such pretences
to religion; they are as loose, as frothy, as unsavoury, in
their discourse, as any of their neighbours; they have no more
inclination, or at least no more courage, to speak one word for
God and religion than we have; they are as ready to over-reach
those who deal with them, and to cheat and defraud in matters of
trade, as any amongst us'" (p. 79).
"Shall I address myself with freedom to the parents and
governors of families? Are you as solicitous to keep up the
seasons of worship in your households as your fathers were? Are
there not too many among you, who scarce ever call upon God in
their families at all, unless it be perhaps on a Lord's-day
evening? Have you learned to change the course of nature, to
turn night into day, and day into night? Can the seasons of
family worship be well maintained, or can the master perform
it with a clear head and a pious heart, if he indulges his
amusements in public drinking-houses till the hour of midnight
approaches?" (p. 87.)
"Is not bankruptcy reckoned too small a crime amongst the
Dissenters, as well as amongst their neighbours? and that where
there can be found no other reason for it, but that they have
lived too fast; they have affected the luxuries of life in their
dress and furniture, food, equipage, and attendance, and would
vie with their neighbours in splendour, grandeur, and expense,
where the circumstances of their estate or trade have not been
able to afford it? Or, perhaps they have frequented taverns
early and late; they have habituated themselves to a morning
whet, to prepare for some luxurious dish at noon; they have
indulged their pleasures, and neglected their shop. Or, it may
be they have sought to grow rich at once by plunging into trade
and debt beyond all proportion of their estate, or possibility
of payment, if they should meet with any disappointing accident.
They have too often assumed the character of _the wicked_,
who _borrows when he knows not how to pay again_. They have
supplied their shops with goods, their tables with costly
provisions, their houses with rich furniture, and their families
with shining apparel, out of the purses of their credulous
neighbours. A man who should have been found in the practice
of half these vices would never have been called a Dissenter
in the days of our fathers; and it is a heavy shame, and an in
supportable disgrace, that there should be any such characters
in our day that should wear the name of a Nonconformist" (p. 89).
"I proceed to the sixth and last thing wherein the Protestant
Dissenters were wont eminently to distinguish themselves, and
that is in their abstaining from those gayer vanities and
dangerous diversions of their age, which border so near vice and
irreligion, that sometimes it is pretty hard to separate them.
Such are many of our _midnight assemblies_, _midnight balls_,
_lewd and profane comedies_, _masquerades_, _public gaming
tables_, _and deep play_. In this respect, shall I put the
question, '_What do you more than others?_' It was a constant
and known mark of a Protestant Dissenter in former days, to
refuse attendance upon any of these kinds of diversions. I
hope we have not utterly lost this piece of Puritanism amongst
us. I am bold to say, that if our fathers were in any degree
too rigid and austere in pronouncing these things absolutely
sinful, and in their utter prohibition of themselves and their
households from ever once attending upon them; it is certain
that we their children are much more criminal in giving too
great a loose to many of these diversions. Can you not name
the Dissenters who waste that time at a play-house, or a vain
assembly of merriment, at a public gaming table, or a dancing
room,--that time, I say, which belongs to God or their families?
who spend those seasons in late visits and private balls, or at
cards, whereby evening devotion is utterly excluded? who can
wear out whole hours in these foolish and perilous recreations,
and complain they have no time for prayer? Can you point to no
persons, who are members of Dissenting churches, who entice
their acquaintance to these vanities? Do you know no mothers
who lead their little daughters thither, nor fathers who permit
their sons to go without control? And do they know, or will they
not believe, that the road to lewdness and impiety, to ruin and
beggary, lies through these scenes of dangerous diversion?
"To sum up all in general, your fathers had an honourable
character, and a very great reputation, even among the looser
parts of the nation, for strict virtue, for exemplary and
sincere godliness, beyond the common multitude of those who
called themselves the Established Church; for if any person
appeared to be strictly religious, and fearful of indulging
any sin,--if he was scrupulous of any doubtful practice, or
attempted to give an admonition to the sons of vice, he was
presently called a Puritan, or a Fanatic, or Presbyterian, by
way of reproach. This honour was a frequent tribute paid by the
ungodly world to the superior virtue and merit of your ancestors
and their profession of nonconformity. What is become of this
your reputation? Have you lost your good name? Have you sold
your glory for the indulgence of the follies and vanities of
life? Have you fallen into such a neglect of strict religion as
leaves no other distinction between you and your neighbours,
besides your worship once a week in a different place and
manner? It is time, my friends, when religion is sunk into such
a universal decay in the nation, to enquire whether we have not
suffered it to decay amongst us also, and whether we are not
sharers in the common degeneracy. If the bulk of the nation be
gone far in the neglect of virtue and godliness, let us not dare
to follow the multitude, and make our profession of separation
an empty name, and our pretence to purer worship a mere badge of
hypocrisy" (p. 91).
Such was the significant language of the most notable Dissenting
minister of the age, when Methodism was taking its rise in the
Oxford University. Dr. Watts saw the retrogression of the
Nonconformists, and had fidelity enough to speak of it.
Further testimony respecting the need of a ministry like that of
Whitefield and his friends is hardly needed; but the following, from
another class of witnesses, may not be unacceptable.
In a sermon preached before the House of Lords, at the Abbey Church
in Westminster, on Friday, December 8, 1721, by the Bishop of
Norwich, the following paragraph occurs:--
"Notwithstanding the dismal calamities we have already felt,
wickedness still overflows the nation like a mighty deluge,
so as to overspread all ranks and orders of men amongst us.
Do not our eyes behold it continually, in the open atheism,
profaneness, and impiety; in the hypocrisy and dissimulation; in
the contempt of God and His holy worship; in the profanation of
His holy day; in the bold infidelity, and denying the Lord that
bought us; in the dreadful abuse of God's great and glorious
name, by the horrid oaths, curses, and imprecations, which are
heard continually in our streets, and in the places of concourse
and conversation; in the practice of the most filthy and
abominable lusts; in the lewdness and luxury; in the oppression
and injustice; in the implacable malice and hatred of one
towards another; and in our senseless divisions and animosities,
without cause and without end, which reign everywhere?"
This was strong language to be used in such a place, and before such
an audience; and the following, respecting the literature of the
day, by another dignitary of the Church of England, Dr. Stanhope,
Dean of Canterbury, and Chaplain to his Majesty, is quite as strong.
In a sermon, preached in the parish church of St. Pancras, in 1723,
Dean Stanhope speaks of many of the productions of the press, as
"those monsters of irreligion and profaneness, of heresy and schism,
of sedition and scandal, of malice and detraction, of obscenity and
ribaldry, which mercenary wretches, void of shame, published for
the sake of a paltry present gain, thereby, not only debauching the
principles of the age, but, if such detestable compositions can
survive so long, propagating the poison to posterity, and furnishing
the devil with nets and snares, for drawing in, and sinking down to
hell, numbers of unwary souls, which are yet unborn."
In a sermon, preached in Salisbury Cathedral, in 1745, and published
at the request of the mayor and corporation, Bishop Sherlock
remarked:--
"Let not _me_ be the accuser of my nation, but let every man
recollect what he has heard, and read, and seen within the
compass of a few years. Surely the gospel of Christ Jesus was
never treated with greater malice and contempt, by Jews or
heathens, than it has been in this Christian country. Think not
that I am condemning a sober enquiry into the truth of religion;
but what shall we say for the undisguised profaneness and
blasphemy that have swarmed from the press? Many instances might
be given; but one can never be forgotten, where the noblest and
most exalted hymn of Christian devotion[82] in the world has
been perverted to the highest impiety and blasphemy, that the
wickedness or malice of man's heart can conceive. This and other
crimes are indeed chargeable on the authors; but how deplorable
must the state of the nation be, when men find encouragement to
provide such entertainment for the public!
[82] The Te Deum.
"Look into common life, and see what is become of that sense
of religion which once animated the people. When popery was
breaking in upon us, our churches were crowded. Is it so now?
Is not Sunday become a day of diversion to the great ones, and
a day of laziness to the little ones? And has not this been
manifestly followed by a great increase of great wickedness and
violence among the lower people? Theft and robbery, which used
to be secret crimes, now appear armed in our streets; and are
supported by numbers strong enough to defy the power of the
magistrates."
These are melancholy statements; but, coming from such men, it is
impossible to doubt their truthfulness. Speaking generally, the
churches of the land were sunk into apathy and worldliness, and the
people, with few exceptions, were not only regardless of religion,
but saturated with infidelity and wickedness. No wonder that the
souls of men like Whitefield were stirred to their deepest depths.
The country needed a religious agency which it possessed not; and
God, in infinite mercy, supplied the want.
It is time to return to Whitefield. As usual, he shall relate his
own story. He was eager to embark for Georgia. He had consulted
his friends at Oxford, and had secured their approval. He wished,
however, to have the judgment of Dr. Benson, who had ordained him;
and, hence, writes as follows:--
"On New Year's Day, 1737, I went to Gloucester, to hear the
bishop's opinion, and to take leave of my mother and other
relations. His lordship received me, as he always did, like a
father, approved of my design, and wished me much success. My
own relations, at first, were not so passive. My aged mother
wept sore; and others urged what pretty preferment I might have,
if I would stay at home. But, at length, they grew more quiet,
and, finding me so fixed, gainsayed no longer.
"During my stay here, I began to grow a little popular. God gave
me honour for a while, even in my own country. I preached twice
on the Sabbaths. Congregations were very large, and the power of
God attended the word; and some, I have reason to believe, were
truly converted.
"In about three weeks, I went to Bristol, to take leave of
some of my relations there. As it was my constant practice,
go where I would, to attend on the daily public offices of
the Church, I went, the Thursday after my coming, to hear a
sermon at St. John's Church. Whilst the psalm was singing,
after the prayers, the minister came to my seat, and asked me
to give the congregation a sermon. Having my notes about me,
I complied. The hearers seemed startled, and, after sermon,
enquiry was made, who I was? The next day there was another
lecture at St. Stephen's. Many crowded thither in expectation
of hearing me again. The lecturer asked me to preach. I again
complied; and the alarm given here was so general, that, on the
following Lord's-day, many of all denominations were obliged to
return from the churches, where I preached, for want of room.
Afterwards, I was called by the mayor to preach before him and
the corporation. For some time following, I preached all the
_lectures_ on week-days, and twice on Sundays, besides visiting
the Religious Societies. The word, through the mighty power of
God, was sharper than a two-edged sword. The doctrine of the new
birth and justification by faith in Jesus Christ (though I was
not so clear in it as afterwards) made its way like lightning
into the hearers' consciences. The arrows of conviction stuck
fast; and my whole time, between one lecture and another, except
what was spent in necessary refreshment, was wholly occupied in
talking with people under religious concern. Large offers were
made me, if I would stay at Bristol. All wondered that I would
go to Georgia; and some urged that, if I had a mind to convert
Indians, I might go among the Kingswood colliers, and find
Indians enough there. But none of these things moved me. Having
put my hand to the plough, I was determined, through Divine
grace, not to look back.
"During my stay at Bristol, I made a little elopement to Bath,
where I was kindly received by a dear friend, the Rev. Mr.
Chapman,[83] and some elect and honourable women who befriended
the Oxford Methodists. I preached at the Abbey Church twice.
The late Dr. Cockman was pleased to thank me for my sermon;
and application was made to me by several to print both my
discourses."
[83] An Oxford Methodist, one of James Hervey's dearest friends in
early life.
These facts, so ingenuously and simply related, are marvellous. Here
was a young man, fresh from college, recently ordained, without
patronage, and belonging to the despised Methodists, literally
agitating, what was then, in point of population, the second city in
the nation; while, at Bath, England's most fashionable resort, with
"Beau" Nash, the accomplished rake, at the head of it, the Methodist
stripling was gladly welcomed to the cathedral pulpit! This crisis
in Whitefield's history was a dangerous one. The adulations of the
multitude might easily have disturbed the religious equilibrium of
the young preacher, and, thereby, damaged him for life. He felt his
peril, and prayed to be preserved from it. The following, written at
the time to his friend Harris, at Gloucester, is worth quoting:--
"BRISTOL, _February 10, 1737_.
"DEAR SIR,--What shall I say? I cannot be with you this week.
Methinks it would be almost sinful to leave Bristol at this
critical juncture, there being now a prospect of making a very
considerable collection for the poor Americans. The whole city
seems to be alarmed. Churches are as full on week-days as they
used to be on Sundays, and on Sundays are so full, that many,
very many, are obliged to go away, because they cannot come in.
Oh pray, dear Mr. Harris, that God would always keep me humble,
and fully convinced that I am nothing without Him, and that
all the good which is done upon earth, God doeth it Himself.
Quakers, Baptists, Presbyterians, all come to hear the word
preached. Sanctify it, Holy Father, to Thy own glory and Thy
people's good!"
From Bristol, Whitefield proceeded to Gloucester, Oxford, and
London. He writes:--