I was obliged to be at Oxford to perform the remainder of my
college exercise, which they call _Determining_. I went through
Gloucester, and abode there a week, visiting the prisoners,
and encouraging the awakened souls. Having stayed about ten
days at the University, I took, as I thought, my last farewell
of my dear friends, and came to London in the beginning of
March, in order to wait upon James Oglethorp, Esq., and the
honourable trustees.[84] The former introduced me to his Grace
the present Archbishop of Canterbury;[85] and the Rev. Mr.
Arthur Bedford,[86] at the desire of the latter, went with me
to the present Bishop of London.[87] Both approved of my going
abroad; the former was pleased to say, 'He would take particular
notice of such as went to Georgia, if they did not go out of any
sinister view.' This put me upon enquiry what were my motives
in going? And, after the strictest examination, my conscience
answered, 'Not to please any man living upon earth, nor out of
any sinister view, but simply to comply with what I believe
to be Thy will, O God, and to promote Thy glory, thou great
Shepherd and Bishop of souls.'"
[84] Of Georgia.
[85] Dr. Potter.
[86] Chaplain to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.
[87] Edmund Gibson, D.D.
Whitefield expected to sail for Georgia at once; but in this he was
disappointed. The following letter, addressed "To the Rev. Mr. John
Wesley, minister at Savannah," has not before been published:--
"LONDON, _March 17, 1737_.
"REVEREND SIR,--Though I have had thoughts of going to Georgia
for above these seven months, yet I never resolved till I
received your kind letter.
"I am now in London. My intention in coming hither was to wait
on the trustees and the bishop; and both, I believe, will
approve of my going. We are not likely to set sail till July.
Your brother intends returning with me; and I hope God will
sanctify our voyage. I hear of no one yet like-minded, though
there is some hope, I believe, of your seeing Mr. Hall. God
direct him for the best!'[88]
[88] Charles Wesley did not return; and Westley Hall did not go.
"Next week, or the week after, I go to Bath, in order to preach
a public sermon for the poor Americans. God has inclined the
hearts of His people to give me above £200 already, in private
charities, and more, I hope, will still be collected.
"Innumerable are the blessings our God has poured on me since
I saw you last, and remarkably has He set His blessed seal to
my ministry in England; which encourages me to hope He will
likewise do so in Georgia.
"I suppose your brother has informed you, rev. sir, how
matters stand at Oxon; and, therefore, I need only add, that I
believe there will be a remnant of pious students left in the
University, who will take root downwards, and bear fruit upwards.
"I could say a great deal more, and would also write dear Mr.
Ingham;[89] but I knew not that the ship was to sail to-morrow;
and the trustees[90] have engaged me to dine with them; so I
must beg leave to subscribe myself, with earnest prayers for
your success in every undertaking,
"Rev. sir, your dutiful son and servant,
"GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
"P.S.--I salute dear Mr. Ingham and Mr. Delamotte, whom I desire
to love in the bowels of Jesus Christ."
[89] Unknown to Whitefield, Ingham had left Georgia, and was now on
his way home to England.
[90] Of Georgia.
Several things are noticeable in this short letter. Except a
general allusion to his ministerial success, there is not a word
respecting his marvellous popularity in the city of Bristol. He
was already collecting money for the needy inhabitants of Georgia,
though his autobiography does not mention this. He addresses
Wesley scarcely as a familiar friend, but in language strikingly
deferential. He expresses his intention to proceed to Bath, an
intention which, for the present, had to be abandoned. Hence the
following continuation of his autobiography:--
"I continued in London about three weeks, waiting for Mr.
Oglethorpe, who expected to sail every day. In this season, I
preached more frequently than when there before. Many more came
to hear me; and the last Sunday I was in town I read prayers
twice, and preached four times. But, finding Mr. Oglethorpe was
not likely to go for some time, and having lain under particular
obligation to the Rev. Mr. Sampson Harris,[91] minister of
Stonehouse, in Gloucestershire, I went down thither, at his
request, to supply his place, whilst he came up to dispatch some
affairs in town.
[91] Brother of Whitefield's intimate friend, Mr. Harris,
bookseller, of Gloucester, and an eminently zealous and faithful
minister of Christ.
"Here was a little sweet Society, who had heard me preach at
an adjacent town, and had wrestled with God, if it was His
will, to send me amongst them. They received me with joy, and
most of the parishioners were very civil, when I came to visit
them from house to house. I found them more knowing than I
expected. Their pastor had catechized the little ones in the
summer season, and expounded the four lessons every Lord's-day
in the church. I followed his good example, and found great
freedom and assistance given me both in my public and private
administrations. Having the use of the parsonage house, I
expounded every night. Many that were not parishioners came
to hear, and were edified. On Sundays, besides expounding the
lessons, catechising and preaching, I repeated my sermons to the
Society. Neither church nor house could contain the people that
came. I found uncommon manifestations granted me from above.
Early in the morning, at noonday, evening, and midnight, nay,
all the day long, did the blessed Jesus visit and refresh my
heart. Could the trees of a certain wood near Stonehouse speak,
they would tell what sweet communion I and some others enjoyed
there with the ever blessed God. Sometimes, as I was walking,
my soul would make such sallies as though it would go out of
the body. At other times, I was so overpowered with a sense of
God's infinite majesty, that I was constrained to throw myself
prostrate on the ground. One night, when I had been expounding
to many people, it happened to lighten exceedingly, and some
being afraid to go home, I thought it my duty to accompany
them, and improve the occasion, to stir them up to prepare for
the coming of the Son of man. In my return to the parsonage,
whilst others were rising from their beds, frightened almost to
death, I and a poor, but pious, countryman were in the field
exulting in our God, and longing for the time when Jesus shall
be revealed from heaven in a flame of fire. Every week the
congregations increased; and on Ascension-day, when I took my
leave, their sighs and tears almost broke my heart."[92]
[92] Whitefield's farewell sermon at Stonehouse, preached on
Ascension-day, May 10, 1737, was accidentally discovered, in
manuscript, more than seventy years after his decease, and was
first published, with a preface, in 1842. The text was, "Whom He
justified, them He also glorified" (Romans viii. 30). It is one of
his best sermons. The only copy I have ever seen was kindly lent
to me by Mrs. A. J. Parker, of Camberwell, daughter of the devout
clergyman by whom it was revised and committed to the press.
Such was the active and happy life of Whitefield during the two
months that he spent at Stonehouse. In letters to the brother of
the clergyman for whom he was officiating, he wrote:--"Be pleased
to send me the 'Poor Country Curate,' and Flavel's 'Husbandry
Spiritualized.' I know not what to do for want of a clock in the
house.[93] The country now looks like a second paradise. This seems
the pleasantest place I ever was in. Surely I can never be thankful
enough for being sent hither. People flock to hear the word of God
from the neighbouring villages, as well as our own. They gladly
receive me into their houses. I have no let or hindrance to my
ministerial business. Stonehouse people and I agree better and
better. I believe we shall part weeping. Your observations on the
weather were pertinent and spiritual. Honest James and I were out
in the midst of the lightning, and never were more delighted in
our lives. May we be as well pleased when the Son of God cometh to
judgment!"
[93] As yet, he evidently was not the rich possessor of a watch.
On leaving Stonehouse, exultant Whitefield went to Bristol. He
writes:--
"The incumbent of Stonehouse being returned from London, and the
people of Bristol having given me repeated invitations, since
the time of my embarking was deferred, I paid them a second
visit on May 23rd. Multitudes came on foot, and many in coaches,
a mile without the city, to meet me; and almost all saluted and
blessed me as I went along the street.
"Upon my coming here, I received letters from London, informing
me that Mr. Oglethorpe would not embark these two months. This
gladdened many hearts, though I cannot say that it did mine; for
I counted the hours, as it were, till I went abroad. I preached,
as usual, about five times a week; but the congregations grew,
if possible, larger and larger. It was wonderful to see how the
people hung upon the rails of the organ loft, climbed upon the
leads of the church, and made the church itself so hot with
their breath, that the steam would fall from the pillars like
drops of rain. Sometimes, almost as many would go away, for
want of room, as came in; and it was with great difficulty that
I got into the desk, to read prayers or preach. Persons of all
denominations flocked to hear. Persons of all ranks, not only
publicly attended my ministry, but gave me private invitations
to their houses. A private Society or two were erected. I
preached and collected for the poor prisoners in Newgate twice
or thrice a week; and many made me large offers if I would not
go abroad.
"During my stay here, I paid another visit to Bath, and preached
three times in the Abbey Church, and once in Queen's Chapel.
People crowded, and were affected as at Bristol; and God stirred
up some elect ladies to give upwards of £160 for the poor of
Georgia."
At this distance of time, it is impossible to ascertain who were the
"elect ladies" here mentioned. Bath was the resort of all kinds of
ladies, titled and untitled, converted and unconverted, moral and
immoral. How many of Bath's distinguished female visitors flocked
to the Abbey Church to hear the young Christian orator, there is no
evidence to show; and it is equally difficult to determine whether
any of these casual acquaintances became lasting friends. It is
said, that the witty and eccentric Lady Townshend, the mother of
the first Marquess Townshend and of the famous Charles Townshend,
was the first titled lady who extolled Whitefield's preaching;[94]
and it is certain that, within a few years after this visit to the
city of Bath, his aristocratic hearers and admirers included the
Countess of Huntingdon, the Duchess of Ancaster, Lady Cobham, the
Duchess of Buckingham, the Duchess of Queensbury, Lady Lisburne,
Lady Hinchinbroke, and others, some of whom will be further noticed
in succeeding pages.
[94] "Life and Times of Countess of Huntingdon," vol i., p. 23.
This second preaching visit to Bristol lasted for a month. His
entrance was a spectacle seldom seen; and his departure was quite
as marvellous. The youthful evangelist, in continuation of his
artlessly told narrative, remarks:--
"June 21st, I took my last farewell at Bristol; but when I came
to tell the people, it might be that they would '_see my face no
more_,' high and low, young and old, burst into such a flood of
tears, as I had never seen before. Multitudes, after sermon,
followed me home weeping; and, the next day, I was employed
from seven in the morning till midnight, in talking and giving
spiritual advice to awakened souls.
"About three the next morning, having thrown myself on the bed
for an hour or two, I set out for Gloucester, because I heard
that a great company on horseback, and in coaches, intended
to see me out of town. Some, finding themselves disappointed,
followed me thither, where I stayed a few days, and preached to
a very crowded auditory. Then I went on to Oxford, where we had,
as it were, a general rendezvous of the Methodists; and, finding
their interests flourishing, and being impatient to go abroad, I
hastened away, and came to London about the end of August."
Thus passed two months more of this strange and eventful year.
Meanwhile, Whitefield had issued his first publication. The
following advertisement appeared in the _Weekly Miscellany_, July
22, 1737:--"Speedily will be published (price sixpence, or two
guineas per hundred, to those who give them away), The Nature and
Necessity of our New Birth in Christ Jesus, in order to Salvation--a
Sermon preached in the Church of St. Mary's Redcliffe, in Bristol,
by George Whitefield, A.B., of Pembroke College, Oxford. Published
at the request of several of the hearers. Printed by C. Rivington,
in St. Paul's Churchyard; and sold by Messrs. Harris, Senior and
Junior, in Gloucester; Mr. Wilson, in Bristol; and Mr. Leake, in
Bath."[95]
[95] When Whitefield was closing his ministry in London, in the year
1769, he said: "The second sermon I ever made, the second sermon I
ever preached, was on these words, 'If any man be in Christ, he is
a new creature.' I was then about twenty years and a half old. The
next sermon I preached was upon 'Ye are justified;' and the next,
'Ye are glorified.'" (Whitefield's Eighteen Sermons, published by
Gurney, 1771, p. 334.)
The sermon, thus announced, was published on August 5th, 8vo, 28
pp. The text was, "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature."
The four divisions were, 1. What is meant by _being in Christ_. 2.
What we are to understand by being a _new creature_. 3. Produce
arguments to prove _why_ we must be _new creatures_ before we can be
_in Christ_. 4. Draw some inferences from the whole. At the present
day, there is nothing in the sermon likely to arrest attention;
but, a hundred and thirty years ago, things were different. _Then_,
Whitefield's doctrine, if not new, was startling. It was seldom
preached, was hardly understood, and rarely _felt_. As Whitefield
himself observes, "though one of the most fundamental doctrines of
our holy religion," "it was so seldom considered, and so little
_experimentally_ understood by the generality of professors," that
when told "they must be born again, they were ready to cry out, 'How
can these things be?'"
The sermon is not remarkable either for its eloquence or depth
of thought. It is simply plain, earnest, practical. Two or three
extracts, to illustrate Whitefield's style, may be welcome.
Having propounded the doctrine, that being a _new creature_ does
not mean "a physical change made in us," but rather an alteration
of "the qualities and tempers of our minds," the preacher
proceeds,--"As it may be said of a piece of gold that was in the
ore, after it has been cleansed, purified, and polished, that it
is a new piece of gold; as it may be said of a bright glass that
has been covered over with filth, when it is wiped, and so become
transparent and clear, that it is a new glass; or, as it might be
said of Naaman, when he recovered of his leprosy, and his flesh
returned unto him like the flesh of a young child, that he was a
new man; so our souls, though still the same as to essence, yet are
so purged, purified, and cleansed from their natural dross, filth,
and leprosy, by the influences of the Holy Spirit, that they may
properly be said to be _made anew_!'
One of Whitefield's arguments to prove the necessity of the new
birth was founded on a consideration of the nature of future
happiness. That happiness being _spiritual_, "unless our _carnal_
minds are _changed_, and become _spiritualized_, we cannot be made
meet to be partakers of it."
"It is true," he says, "we may flatter ourselves, that, supposing
we continue in our natural corrupt estate, and carry all our lusts
along with us, we should notwithstanding relish heaven, were
God to admit us therein. And so we might, were it a _Mahometan
paradise_, wherein we were to take our full swing in sensual
delights. But since its joys are only _spiritual_, and no unclean
thing can possibly enter those blessed mansions, there is an
absolute necessity of our being _changed_, and undergoing a total
_renovation_ of our depraved natures, before we can have any taste
or relish of those heavenly pleasures. In the very nature of
things, unless we have dispositions answerable to the objects that
are to entertain us, we can take no manner of complacency in them.
For instance, what delight can the most harmonious _music_ afford
a _deaf_ man; or what pleasure the most excellent _picture_ give a
_blind_ one? Can a tasteless palate relish the richest dainties? or
a filthy swine be pleased with a garden of flowers? No! And what
reason can be assigned for it? An answer is ready: Because they have
no tempers of mind correspondent to what they are to be diverted
with. And thus it is with the soul hereafter. For death makes no
more alteration in the soul, than as it enlarges its faculties, and
makes it capable of receiving deeper impressions either of pleasure
or pain. If it delighted to converse with God here, it will be
transported with the sight of His glorious majesty hereafter. If
it was pleased with the communion of saints on earth, it will be
infinitely more so with the communion and society of holy angels,
and of the spirits of just men, made perfect, in heaven. But, if
the opposite of all this be true, it could not be happy, were God
Himself to admit it into the regions of the blessed."
One more extract must suffice. It is taken from the preface to the
sermon, and was hardly adapted to gain the young preacher favour
among the clergy whom it censures.
"The importunity of friends, the aspersions of enemies, the
great scarcity of sermons on this subject, among the divines of
our own Church, and not any overweening conceit of the worth
of the performance, were, amongst divers others, the reasons
that induced me to permit the publication of this very plain
discourse. If it be made instrumental towards the convicting
of any one sinner, or confirming any one saint, I shall not be
solicitous about the censures that may be passed, either on the
simplicity of the style, or on the youth of the author.
"I hope it will be permitted me to add my hearty wishes, that
my reverend brethren, the ministers of the Church of England,
(if such an one as I may be worthy to call them brethren,)
would more frequently entertain their people with discourses of
this nature, than they commonly do; and that they would not,
out of a servile fear of displeasing some particular persons,
fail to declare the _whole will_ of God to their respective
congregations, nor suffer their people to rest satisfied with
the shell and shadow of religion, without acquainting them with
the nature and necessity of that _inward holiness and vital
purity of heart_, which their profession obliges them to aspire
after, and without which no man living can comfortably see the
Lord."
The first sermon which Wesley published, after his conversion, was
on the text, "By grace are ye saved, through faith;" its _principal_
subject being "salvation, or justification, by faith only."
Whitefield's first sermon is entirely on the new birth. Both the
doctrines are of paramount importance; and the preaching of the two
combined, created, under God, the Methodism that now exists.
It may be added, that Whitefield's sermon passed through at least
three editions before the year of its publication was ended.[96]
Other sermons will be mentioned shortly; but, in the meantime,
Whitefield's narrative must be resumed. Having come to London "about
the end of August," expecting to set sail for Georgia, he says:--
"Every hour now seemed a week, and every week a year, till I
was embarked. I knew there was no minister at Frederica, for
which place I was appointed, and I did not care to be absent
longer from my proper charge. Mr. Oglethorpe's going was still
retarded, and I had thought it my duty to go immediately
without him, had not he and my other friends urged that the
soldiers would shortly embark, and that I had best go over with
them. This somewhat pacified me; and, having now taken a final
farewell of my friends in the country, I was resolved to abide
in London, and give myself wholly to prayer, the study of the
Scriptures, and my own heart, till the soldiers should embark.
[96] Whitefield's Works, vol. i., p. 30.
"The house I lodged at was good old Mr. Hutton's,[97] in College
Street, Westminster, where I had the pleasure of seeing my dear
friend, Mr. Ingham, lately returned from Georgia; and perceiving
him, as I thought, remarkably grown in grace, I longed still
more to be sent to the same school, hoping to catch some of
that holy flame with which his soul was fired. We freely and
solemnly conversed together about my call abroad; and it seemed
to both quite clear. Our hearts were knit to each other, like
the hearts of David and Jonathan. At midnight, we would rise to
sing praises to God, and to intercede for the whole state of
Christ's militant Church here on earth.
[97] The Rev. John Hutton, a worthy and respected clergyman of
the Church of England, who was trained at Eton College, and
proceeded from that institution, as one of its senior scholars,
to King's College, Cambridge, in the summer of 1694, where
he graduated in arts as bachelor in 1698, and as master in
1702. Being unable, from conscientious scruples, to take the
necessary oaths to the government, he felt himself obliged to
resign his Church preferment, and, engaging a house in College
Street, Westminster, took several boys, belonging to non-jurors,
to board with him, and be educated. Of course, like all the
non-jurors of the age, he maintained the doctrines of passive
obedience; of the Divine institution of hereditary succession to
the throne; of the non-jurisdiction of the civil magistrate in
the Church, etc., etc. His wife was second-cousin to Sir Isaac
Newton; and his son, as is well known, became the principal
Moravian in England, and, later on in life, was a frequent and
almost familiar visitor of George III and his Queen Charlotte.
For a time, a close and affectionate intimacy existed between
the Hutton family and the Wesley brothers.
"With this dear friend, I, one day, paid a visit to a worthy
doctor of divinity, near London, who introduced us to some
honourable ladies, who delighted in doing good. It being my
constant practice to improve my acquaintance with the rich for
the benefit of the poor, I recommended two poor clergymen, and
another pious person, to their charity. They said little, but,
between them, gave, I think, thirty-six guineas. The doctor
said,' If you had not spoken for others, you would have had
a good deal of that yourself.' God gave me to rejoice that I
had nothing, and the poor all. The next day, upon my return to
London, in the first letter that I opened, was a bank-note of
£10, sent from an unexpected hand as a present to myself.
"About this time, I was prevailed upon to print my sermon on
'The Nature and Necessity of our New Birth in Christ Jesus,'
which, under God, began the awakening in London, Bristol,
Gloucester, and Gloucestershire. This sermon sold well to
persons of all denominations, and was dispersed very much both
at home and abroad. Finding another of my sermons was printed,
without my leave, and in a very incorrect manner, at Bristol,
I was obliged to publish in my own defence; and, afterwards,
thought I had a clear call to print any other discourses, though
in themselves mean, that I found blessed to the good of souls.
"But to return to my public administrations. Being determined
to abide in London till the time of my departure, I followed
my usual practice of reading and praying over the word of God
upon my knees. Sweet was this retirement, but it was not of long
continuance. I was invited to preach at Cripplegate, St. Ann's,
and Forster Lane churches, at six on the Lord's-day morning, and
to assist in administering the holy sacrament. I embraced the
invitations, and so many came, that sometimes we were obliged to
consecrate fresh elements two or three times. I also preached
at Wapping Chapel, the Tower, Ludgate, Newgate, and many of the
churches where weekly lectures were kept up. The congregations
continually increased, and generally, on a Lord's-day, I used to
preach four times to very large and very affected auditories,
besides reading prayers twice or thrice, and walking, perhaps,
twelve miles in going backwards and forwards from one church to
the other.
"About the latter end of August, finding there were many young
men belonging to the" (Religious) "Societies that attended my
administrations, I entered into one of their singing societies,
hoping to have greater opportunities of doing them good. It
answered my design. Our Lord gave me to spiritualize their
singing. After they had taught me the gamut, they would gladly
hear me teach them some of the mysteries of the new birth. Many
sweet nights we spent together in this way; and many of these
youths, afterwards, to all appearance, walked with God.
"About the middle of September, my name was first put into the
public newspapers. The Sunday before, I was prevailed upon to
preach a charity sermon in Wapping Chapel.[98] The congregation
was very large, and more was collected than had been for many
years upon a like occasion. My friends entreated me to preach
another charity sermon, at Sir George Wheeler's Chapel; and,
through the importunity of Mr. Habersham (since my faithful
assistant in the Orphan House), I agreed to do it. I discoursed
upon the widow's giving her two mites. God bowed the hearts of
the hearers as the heart of one man. Almost all, as I was told
by the collectors, offered most willingly. This still drew on
fresh applications. The Sunday following, I preached, in the
evening, at St. Swithin's, where £8 was collected, instead
of ten shillings. The next morning, I read in one of the
newspapers, 'that there was a young gentleman going volunteer to
Georgia; that he had preached at St. Swithin's, and collected
£8, instead of ten shillings, £3 of which were in halfpence; and
that he was to preach next Wednesday before the Societies, at
their general quarterly meeting.' This advertisement chagrined
me. I immediately sent to the printer, desiring he would put
me in his paper no more. His answer was, that 'he was paid for
doing it, and that he would not lose two shillings for anybody.'
By this means, people's curiosity was stirred up more and more.
On the Wednesday evening, Bow Church, in Cheapside, was crowded
exceedingly. I preached my sermon on 'Early Piety,' and, at the
request of the Societies, printed it.
[98] The text was "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian."
"Henceforwards, for near three months successively, there was
no end of the people flocking to hear the word of God. The
churchwardens and managers of charity schools were constantly
applying to me to preach for the benefit of the children;
and, as I was to embark shortly, they procured the liberty of
the churches on the week-days,--a thing never known before. I
sometimes had more than a dozen names of different churches,
at which I had promised to preach, upon my slate-book at once;
and, when I preached, constables were obliged to be placed
at the door, to keep the people in order. The sight of the
congregations was awful. One might, as it were, walk upon
the people's heads; and thousands went away from the largest
churches for want of room. They were all attention, and heard
like people hearing for eternity.
"I now preached generally nine times a week. The early
sacraments were exceeding awful. At Cripplegate, St. Ann's, and
Forster Lane, how often have we seen Jesus Christ crucified, and
evidently set forth before us! On Sunday mornings, long before
day, you might see streets filled with people going to church,
with their lanterns in their hands, and hear them conversing
about the things of God. Other lecture churches near at hand
would be filled with persons who could not come where I was
preaching; and those who did come were like persons struck with
pointed arrows, or mourning for a firstborn child. People gave
so liberally to the charity schools, that this season near,£1000
was collected at the several churches, besides many private
contributions and subscriptions sent in afterwards. I always
preached gratis, and gave myself.
"The _blue-coat_ boys and girls looked upon me as their great
benefactor; and, I believe, frequently sent up their infant
cries on my behalf. Worthy Mr. Seward, afterwards my dear
fellow-traveller, was their hearty friend and advocate. He was
concerned in above twenty charity schools, and, as I found
afterwards, inserted the paragraph that so chagrined me.
"The tide of popularity now began to run very high. In a
short time, I could no longer walk on foot as usual, but was
constrained to go in a coach, from place to place, to avoid
the hosannas of the multitude. They grew quite extravagant in
their applauses; and, had it not been for my compassionate High
Priest, popularity would have destroyed me. I used to plead
with Him to take me by the hand, and lead me unhurt through
this fiery furnace. He heard my request, and gave me to see the
vanity of all commendations but His own.
"Not that all spoke well of me. No; as my popularity increased,
opposition increased also. At first, many of the clergy were my
hearers and admirers; but some soon grew angry, and complaints
were made that the churches were so crowded that there was no
room for the parishioners, and that the pews were spoiled. Some
called me a spiritual pickpocket, and others thought I made
use of a kind of charm to get the people's money. A report was
spread that the Bishop of London, upon the complaint of the
clergy, intended to _silence_ me. I immediately waited upon his
lordship, and enquired whether any complaint of this nature had
been lodged against me? He answered, 'No.' I asked his lordship
whether any objection could be made against my doctrine? He
said, 'No; for he knew a clergyman who had heard me preach a
plain scriptural sermon.' I asked his lordship whether he would
grant me a license? He said, 'I needed none, since I was going
to Georgia.' I replied, 'Then your lordship will not forbid me?'
He gave me a satisfactory answer, and I took my leave. Soon
after this, two clergymen sent for me, and told me they would
not let me preach in their pulpits any more, unless I renounced
that part of my sermon on regeneration, wherein I wished 'that
my brethren would entertain their auditories oftener with
discourses upon the new birth.' This I had no freedom to do, and
so they continued my opposers.
"What, I believe, irritated some of my enemies the more, was
my free conversation with many of the serious Dissenters, who
invited me to their houses, and repeatedly told me 'that, if
the doctrine of the new birth and justification by faith was
preached powerfully in the Church, there would be but few
Dissenters in England.' My practice in visiting and associating
with them, I thought, was quite agreeable to the word of
God. Their conversation was savoury, and I imagined the best
way to bring them over was not by bigotry and railing, but
by moderation, and love, and undissembled holiness of life.
But these reasons were of no avail. One minister called me a
_pragmatical rascal_, and vehemently inveighed against the whole
body of Dissenters. This stirred up the people's corruptions;
and, having an overweening fondness for me, whenever they came
to church and found that I did not preach, some of them would
go out again. This spirit I always endeavoured to quell, and
made a sermon on purpose from these words, 'Take heed how ye
hear.' One time, upon hearing that a churchwarden intended to
take £8 a year from his parish minister, because he refused to
let me preach his lecture, I composed a sermon upon 'Love your
enemies,' and delivered it where I knew the churchwarden would
be. It had its desired effect. He came after sermon, and told me
he should not resent the injury the doctor had done me, and then
thanked me for my care.
"Nor was I without opposition from my friends, who were jealous
over me with a godly jealousy. Thousands and thousands came to
hear. My sermons were everywhere called for. News came, from
time to time, of the springing-up and increase of the seed sown
in Bristol, Gloucester, and elsewhere. Large offers were made
me, if I would stay in England. And all the opposition I met
with, joined with the consciousness of my daily infirmities, was
but ballast little enough to keep me from oversetting.
"I had a sweet knot of religious friends, with whom I first
attempted to pray _extempore_. Some time, I think in October,
we began to set apart an hour every evening to intercede with
the Great Head of the Church to carry on the work begun, and
for the circle of our acquaintance, according as we knew their
circumstances required. I was their mouth unto God, and He only
knows what enlargement I felt in that Divine employ. Once we
spent a whole night in prayer and praise; and many a time, at
midnight and at one in the morning, after I had been wearied
almost to death in preaching, writing, and conversation, and
going from place to place, God imparted new life to my soul, and
enabled me to intercede with Him for an hour and a half and two
hours together. The sweetness of this exercise made me compose
my sermon upon _Intercession_, and I cannot think it presumption
to suppose that partly, at least, in answer to prayers then put
up by His dear children, the Word, for some years past, has run
and been glorified, not only in England, but in many other parts
of the world.
"It was now, I think, that I was prevailed on to sit for my
picture. The occasion was this. Some ill-minded persons had
painted me leaning on a cushion, with a bishop looking very
enviously over my shoulder. At the bottom were six lines, in
one of which the bishops were styled 'Mitred Drones.' The same
person published in the papers that I had sat for it. This
I looked upon as a snare of the devil to incense the clergy
against me. I consulted friends what to do. They told me I must
sit for my picture in my own defence. At the same time, my aged
mother laid her commands upon me to do so, urging 'that if I
would not let her have the substance, I would leave her at least
the shadow.' She also mentioned the painter, and, meeting with
him one night, accidentally, I, with great reluctance, complied,
and endeavoured, whilst the painter was drawing my face, to
employ my time in beseeching the great God, by His Holy Spirit,
to paint His blessed image upon my heart.
"Christmas now drew near. Notice was given me that the soldiers
were almost ready to embark for Georgia, and I resolved to go
with them. The nearer the time of my departure approached,
the more affectionate the people grew. At the beginning of
Christmas week, I took my leave; but, oh, what groans and sighs
were heard when I said, 'Finally, brethren, farewell!' At Great
St. Helen's, the cry was amazing. I was nearly half an hour
going out to the door. All ranks gave vent to their passions.
Thousands and thousands of prayers were put up for me. They
would run and stop me in the alleys, hug me in their arms, and
follow me with wishful looks. Once in the Christmas before my
departure, with many others, I spent a night in prayer and
praise, and, in the morning, helped to administer the sacrament
at St. Dunstan's, as I used to do on Saints' Days. But such a
sacrament I never saw before. The tears of the communicants
mingled with the cup, and had not Jesus comforted our hearts,
our parting would have almost been unsupportable.
"At length, on December 28, I left London and went on board the
_Whitaker_, after having preached in a good part of the London
churches, collected about £1000 for the charity schools, and got
upwards of £300 for the poor of Georgia among my friends."[99]
[99] "A Further Account of God's Dealings with the Rev. George
Whitefield, from the time of his Ordination to his embarking for
Georgia." 8vo, 1747.
This is a strange, almost romantic story. Remembering Whitefield's
youthfulness and the circumstances of his life, it stands
unparalleled. The young Methodist stirred one of the greatest cities
in the world. John Wesley was now on his way home from Georgia,
disappointed, and deplorably depressed, and wrote, during his ocean
journey, "I went to America to convert the Indians; but, oh, who
shall convert me?" Twelve months before, Charles Wesley began his
"twenty-seventh year in a murmuring, discontented spirit; reading
over and over the third of Job;"[100] and during the interval had
been worried with all sorts of Georgian vexations. Whitefield all
the while was almost as happy as a man could be outside heaven;
and, in his pulpit throne, was wielding a power which moved the
hearts of thousands. "I suppose," said he to his friend Harris, at
Gloucester, "you have heard of my _mighty deeds_, falsely so called,
by reading the newspapers; but I beseech Mr. Raikes, the printer,
never to put me into his News upon any such account again. All
London is alarmed. Thousands, I hope, are quickened, strengthened,
and confirmed by the word preached. God still works more and more by
my unworthy ministry. Last week, save one," (November 14, 1737,) "I
preached ten times in different churches; and the last week seven;
and yesterday four times, and read prayers twice. I now begin to
preach charity sermons twice or thrice a week, besides two or three
on Sundays; and sixty or seventy pounds are collected weekly for
the poor children. Thousands would come in to hear, but cannot." In
another letter to the same friend, dated December 23rd, he writes:
"On Wednesday night, eighteen of us continued all night in praises,
and in praying for you and our other friends. I have preached above
a hundred times since I have been here. Last Sunday, at six in the
morning, when I gave my farewell, the whole congregation wept and
cried aloud. Since that, there is no end of persons coming and
telling me what God has done for their souls. The time would fail
me, were I to relate how many have been awakened. The great day will
discover all. Meanwhile, pray that the goodness of God may make me
humble. My farewell sermon will be published shortly, with two or
three more."
[100] C. Wesley's Journal.
The charity schools so frequently mentioned in Whitefield's
narrative were schools for the education of the children of the
poor, to a large extent established by the Religious Societies and
by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. In 1744, there
were, in London and Westminster, 136 of these schools, containing
5069 scholars.
Whitefield mentions certain "lecture churches" in which he preached.
These were churches in which the Religious Societies, founded by
Dr. Hornech, Bishop Beveridge, and others, about the year 1677,
commenced six o'clock morning services every Sunday, at which
ministers, specially engaged for the occasion, preached, and
administered the holy communion, their fees being paid out of the
sacramental collections, and the overplus of such collections being
given for the support of the charity schools just named.[101]
[101] Memoirs of James Hutton, p. 14.
Charles Wesley was in England during the whole of the year of
1737, but was so occupied with Georgian affairs, and with other
things, that his opportunities of holding communion with his
friend Whitefield were not many. Occasionally, however, they
found time to meet, and rejoiced in each other's welfare.
Charles writes: "Sunday, October 30th. I waked Jacky Delamotte
and Miss Betty at five, and attended them to Forster Lane, where
we heard Mr. Whitefield, and communicated together." And again:
"Saturday, November 5th. I met and turned back with Betty to hear
Mr. Whitefield preach, not with the persuasive words of man's
wisdom, but with the demonstration of the Spirit, and with power.
The churches will not contain the multitudes that throng to hear
him."[102]
[102] C. Wesley's Journal.
During the year, Charles had been worried by a young Dutchman of the
name of Appee, who had accompanied; him from Georgia, a religious
hypocrite, who was afterwards found to be an infidel, a libertine, a
liar, and a thief. He had, also, been introduced to Zinzendorf, just
arrived from Germany, and had promised to call on him every day. At
Zinzendorf's, he had met with Bishop Nitschmann, had been present at
a Moravian service, and had "thought himself in a choir of angels."
The Bishop of Oxford had received him with the utmost kindness, and
had desired him to call on him as often as he could. He had visited
his old friends at Oxford, and his brother Samuel at Tiverton. At
her desire, he had waited upon Lady Betty Hastings. He had buried
his uncle, Matthew Wesley. He had met his mother and his sisters. He
had greeted his "old hearty friend, Benjamin Ingham," just returned
from Georgia. He had had interviews with Archbishop Potter, and with
his Majesty George II. He and William Law had conversed on religious
subjects. He had visited the Delamotte family at Blendon. He had
had cavils not a few with Oglethorpe and the Georgian Trustees. As
late as October 14, he still contemplated a return to Georgia. He
preached occasionally. Everywhere his conversation was religious.
But, compared with his young friend Whitefield, his was a life
of obscurity. He had no preaching popularity, and, judging from
present appearances, was not likely to be blessed or cursed with so
dangerous a thing.
On the other hand, Whitefield had burst upon the public as a blazing
comet. His fame was trumpeted throughout London. Even poets
began to make him the subject of their metrical compositions. The
following was published in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for November,
1737:--
"TO THE REV. Mr. WHITEFIELD, ON HIS DESIGN FOR GEORGIA.
"How great, how just thy zeal, advent'rous youth!
To spread, in heathen climes, the light of truth!
Go, loved of heaven! with every grace refined,
Inform, enrapture each dark Indian's mind;
Grateful, as when to realms long hid from day,
The cheerful dawn foreshows the solar ray.
How great thy charity! whose large embrace
Intends th' eternal weal of all thy race;
Prompts thee, the rage of winds and seas to scorn,
T' effect the work for which thy soul was born.
What multitudes, whom Pagan dreams deceive,
Shall, when they hear thy powerful voice, believe!
On Georgia's shore, thy Wesley shall attend,
To hail the wished arrival of his friend;
With joy the promised harvest he surveys,
And to his Lord for faithful lab'rers prays:
Though crowded temples here would plead thy stay,
Yet haste, blest prophet! on thy destined way.
Be gentle, winds! and breathe an easy breeze!
Be clear, ye skies! and smooth, ye flowing seas!
From heaven, ye guardian angels! swift descend,
Delighted his blest mission to attend;
Which shall from Satan's power whole nations free,
While half the world to Jesus bow the knee.
Long as Savannah, peaceful stream! shall glide,
Your worth renowned shall be extended wide;
Children as yet unborn shall bless your lore,
Who thus, to save them, left your native shore.
Th' Apostles thus, with ardent zeal inspired,
To gain _all nations_ for their Lord desired.
They measured seas, a life laborious knew,
And num'rous converts to their Master drew;
Whose alleluias, on th' ethereal plains,
Rise scarce beneath the bright seraphic strains."
Whatever may be the merits of this high-flown poem, the fact that it
was inserted in one of the most able and popular periodicals of the
day, affords sufficient evidence of the marvellous fame to which
the young Methodist preacher had attained. The incense, however,
was not unmixed. Whitefield had many friends; but, as was natural,
he also had the fortune of having foes. The crowds praised him; but
already envious critics stealthily derided him. Some of the clergy
murmured discontent. An unknown artist, in his "Mitred Drones," did
his best to make Whitefield ridiculous. The _Weekly Miscellany_,
the principal religious newspaper of the period, was getting angry,
and already commenced that anti-Methodistic warfare for which it
soon became famous. After a long series of leading articles against
infidels, the editor began, on October 28, another series against
enthusiasts. It is true that Whitefield is not named; but there
can be no doubt that he was the chief person meant. Want of space
prevents the insertion of more than one extract,--an extract taken
from the first article of the series. The redoubtable Mr. Hooker
writes:--
"Enthusiasts _feel_ the truth, though they are unable to
defend it; and if you ask a _reason_, they can only give you a
_rapture_. _Zeal_ without _knowledge_, _sound_ without _sense_,
and a _light_ in themselves _which cannot shine forth before
men_, are the general symptoms of their disorder. Nay, some of
them make the _absence_ of _reason_ necessary to the _presence_
of the _Spirit_; and accordingly their exercises of religion are
entirely inconsistent with the least use of their understanding.
Their praying in the Spirit is the utmost extravagance of
passion, the wildest flights of the imagination; either glaring
nonsense, or darkness visible. If in a sermon, for want of clear
thinking or expression, there is room left for the _imagination_
to _bewilder_ itself; or the preacher gives a loose to his
_passions_, one while rising with the wildest _ecstasy of joy_,
again sinking into the lowest _dejection of sorrow_, and venting
sighs of the most immoderate _grief_; now railing with all the
bitterness of _rage_, then melting into the most soft and tender
strains of _affection_; how apt are we, nay, how common is it
for the person himself to believe he is under the influence of
the Holy Ghost! His not being able to govern his _own_ spirit is
thought a proof of his having _that_ of God; as the furor of the
Pythian priestess was the sole sign of her inspiration."
Whitefield, however, was not without defenders. In the year 1733,
an important pamphlet was published, with the following title, "The
Oxford Methodists: being an Account of some Young Gentlemen in that
City, in derision so called; setting forth their Rise and Designs.
With some occasional Remarks on a Letter inserted in Fog's Journal
of December 9, 1732, relating to them. In a Letter from a Gentleman
near Oxford to his Friend in London." On the 9th of December, 1737,
a second edition of this pamphlet was issued, "with very great
alterations and improvements," (8vo, 29 pp.) To this was prefixed a
preface of four pages, which, being the _first printed_[103] address
to Whitefield, deserves to be quoted. The writer says:--
"This little piece was originally written to vindicate gentlemen
called by the name of Methodists; and, as their conduct has
continued ever since irreproachable, and they have steadfastly
persevered in the same course which so laudably began some
years ago, and yet have still the misfortune to find themselves
slightly spoken of by many persons who care not to fall into
their measures, which they may possibly think too strict and
self-denying, it must not be thought improper to reprint it now.
And to whom can it be so fitly addressed as to you, sir, who
have passed under that appellation, and who, by your successful
preaching, have so well justified the conduct of the gentlemen
who are the subject of it?
[103] Unless the foregoing poem be considered an exception.
"It must afford no small pleasure to all serious Christians to
find, by your success in the two first cities of the kingdom,
that, degenerate as the age is in which we live, a spirit of
piety and attention may nevertheless be excited in the minds of
the generality; and that without any other _novelty_ than by
preaching the _plain_ and _obvious_ doctrines of _Christianity_
in so _serious_ and _affecting_ a manner as shall show the
preacher to be in _earnest_, and himself affected by the
doctrines he would instil into others. And, from hence, there
is little room to doubt that if the like method was generally
taken by our brethren of the clergy, and if the doctrines of the
_Gospel_ were not made to give way to the only _secondary_ rules
of _morality_, the like success would attend their labours,
and the Christian religion and our sacred function would be
freed from that cold neglect, to say no worse, which is now too
frequently thrown upon both.
"I have heard it rumoured that you have been refused, by some
of our brethren, the use of their pulpits; but, as you have
submitted some of your discourses to the public censure, and
as I have not heard it once suggested by the most invidious
that there is anything contained in them in the least repugnant
to the doctrines of Christianity in general, or those of the
Established Church in particular, I hope it cannot be true.
"But be this as it may, let me exhort you, sir, not to be
discouraged or dismayed at any opposition that you may meet
with in your good designs; but preserve (in the midst of the
_dangerous_ applauses you meet with from the crowded audiences
that everywhere attend your preaching) that _meekness_ and
_humility_ which must be inseparable from the doctrines you seek
to propagate, and more than any one thing (beside the blessing
of God) insure the success of your labours, and demonstrate
to the world that you are yourself under the happy influences
which you seek to spread; that your actions are regulated by
the doctrines you preach; and that God's glory and the religion
of the blessed Jesus are the principal--the only motives that
animate your conduct and your views.
"This will entitle you to the blessing of God, and the
approbation of all good men; and particularly to the hearty
good wishes of your affectionate, though unknown brother in our
common Lord,
"A. B."
Another fact in Whitefield's narrative deserves attention, namely,
his Christian intercourse with Dissenters. In this respect, he was
far ahead of his friend Wesley. In Georgia, Wesley was treating
Dissenters with the supercilious tyranny of a High Church bigot. He
refused them the sacrament, until they first gave up their faith
and principles, and, like Richard Turner and his sons, submitted to
be re-baptized by him.[104] Respecting John Martin Bolzius, whose
beautiful letter he inserted in his Journal, under the date of
September, 1749, Wesley himself remarks, "What a truly Christian
piety and simplicity breathe in these lines! And yet this very man,
when I was at Savannah, did I refuse to admit to the Lord's table,
because he was not baptized--that is, not baptized by a minister
who had been episcopally ordained." One of the accusations against
Wesley, handed to the grand jury at Savannah, was that he "refused
the Office of the Dead to such as did not communicate with him;"
and among the findings of the jury were the following: that he had
refused the sacrament to William Gough, because he had heard William
Gough was a Dissenter; and that he would not allow William Aglionby
to stand godfather to the child of Henry Marley, because William
Aglionby had not been at the communion table with him.
[104] "A True and Historical Narrative of the Colony of Georgia.
1741."
Such was Wesley in Georgia at the very time when Whitefield in
London was having "free conversation with many of the serious
Dissenters who invited him to their houses." Who can doubt which of
the two Oxford Methodists was right? Wesley had more learning than
Whitefield, but, for the present, Whitefield had more charity. One
had been bred in Epworth parsonage; the other in a public-house. One
was encrusted with old and almost inherited prejudices which it was
difficult to cast aside; the other had had a training from which
such prejudices were almost, perhaps entirely, excluded. Wesley,
to the day of his death, professed a conscientious adherence to the
Church of England. Whitefield, almost from first to last, made the
Dissenters his friends.
During the year 1737, about half a dozen of Whitefield's sermons
were published; and from these the reader may obtain a fair idea
of the young preacher's sentiments and style. His almost unbounded
popularity is the best excuse for their being committed to the
press. Perhaps neither time nor study could have ever fitted
Whitefield to occupy the theological professor's chair. He had
a calling peculiarly his own, and well was it fulfilled. He was
incapable of doing the work Wesley did; but there was another kind
of work--popular, earnest, loving, powerful preaching--in which
he seems to stand unequalled. His printed sermons fail to convey
a correct conception of his spoken ones. The preacher's sonorous
voice, his intonations, his action, his facial expressions, are
things which could not be embodied in his published discourses; and
yet, to things like these, the discourses were greatly indebted
for their astonishing effects. Whitefield was the greatest gospel
orator of the age. He never stretched after profundity of thought.
He made no pretensions of excelling in learned biblical exegesis.
A "fine, highly ornamental style" he appears to have eschewed as
much as Wesley did. He preached simple truth, with all his might;
and witnessed success such as is rarely given a minister to see.
The Wesleys had one kind of mission; Whitefield had another. The
former expounded, enforced, and defended truth; wrote hymns;
published grammars, history, philosophy, commentaries, and books
of almost all sorts and sizes; organized societies; instituted
ministerial synods; and exercised a kind of episcopal jurisdiction
over thousands of loving and loyal adherents. Whitefield was an
_evangelist_, a "preacher of the gospel," a man whose chief, if
not only, work was to testify "the truth as it is in Jesus," and
to convert men "from sin to holiness, and from the power of Satan
unto God." Even the ministerial gifts of God are manifold; they
always have been so; they always will. At the beginning, "He gave
some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some,
pastors and teachers; for the perfecting of the saints, for the
work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ." If
not equally important, all are needed, all are useful, and none must
be despised. "The eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of
thee; nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you." Such
a contempt is an injustice to the ministers themselves, and a sin
against God who gives them.
Rightly to appreciate Whitefield's pulpit power, the reader of his
published sermons must not only ponder _what_ he said, but make an
effort to imagine _how_ he said it. With such a proviso, let him
read the following extracts from sermons preached and published by
the youthful evangelist in the year 1737, and at the commencement
of 1738. One of these sermons--on the new birth--has been already
noticed. Besides this, there were eight others.[105]
[105] It must be remembered that there are many paragraphs in the
first edition of these sermons, which are omitted in the sermons
from the same texts in Whitefield's collected works, published in
1771; and _vice versâ_. By overlooking this fact, or by not knowing
it, some of Whitefield's biographers have fallen into ridiculous
mistakes.
1. "The Nature and Necessity of Society in general, and of Religious
Society in particular. Preached in the Parish Church of St. Nicholas
in Bristol, and before the Religious Societies, at one of their
General Quarterly Meetings in Bow Church, London, in the year
1737."[106] (8vo, 30 pp.)
[106] Three editions of this sermon were published before the end of
1737.
In a preface, addressed "to the members of every Religious Society
in and about the Cities of Bristol, London, and Westminster,"
Whitefield says, he had not the least intention to let any other of
his "discourses see the light," besides the one already printed; but
some of his "misguided Bristol friends" had already published "a
very incorrect transcript" of this, and had sold nearly four hundred
copies before he could stop the circulation. The text of the sermon
is Ecclesiastes iv. 9--12. One short extract must suffice. Having
used various arguments in recommending Christian fellowship, he
proceeds to deduce inferences from what had been advanced, and says,
almost prophetically:--
"If the advantages of religious society are so many and so
great, then it is the duty of every Christian to establish and
promote Societies of this nature. And I believe we may venture
to affirm that, if ever the spirit of true Christianity is
revived in the world, it must be brought about by some such
means as this" (p. 26).
When these words were uttered, little did Whitefield think that the
Oxford Methodists would be the means of forming and establishing
such Societies, by thousands, in all quarters of the globe.
2. "The Almost Christian: A Sermon preached at the Parish Church of
St. John, Wapping. Published at the desire of the hearers." (8vo,
27 pp.) Text, Acts xxvi. 28. Two extracts from this sermon may be
welcome:--
"One reason why so many are only almost Christians is, because
they set out with false notions of religion. Though they live
in a Christian country, they know not what Christianity is.
Some place religion in being of this or that communion; more
in morality; most in a round of duties; and few, very few,
acknowledge it to be, what it really is, a thorough inward
change of nature, a divine life, a vital participation of
Jesus Christ, an union of the soul with God. Hence, it happens
that so many, even of the most knowing professors, when you
converse with them concerning the essence, the life, the soul
of religion, I mean our new birth in Jesus Christ, confess
themselves quite ignorant of the matter, and cry out with
Nicodemus, How can this thing be?" (p. 12.)
"An almost Christian is one of the most hurtful creatures in
the world. He is a wolf in sheep's clothing. He is one of those
false prophets, of whom our blessed Lord bids us beware, who
would persuade men that the way to heaven is broader than it
really is; and, thereby, enter not into the kingdom of God
themselves, and those that are entering in they hinder. These,
these are the men who turn the world into a lukewarm, Laodicean
spirit; who hang out false lights, and so shipwreck unthinking
benighted souls in their voyage to the haven where they would
be. These are they that are greater enemies to the cross of
Christ than infidels themselves; for, of an unbeliever every
one will be aware; but an almost Christian, through his subtle
hypocrisy, _draws away many after him_, and therefore must
expect to _receive the greater damnation_" (p. 22).
This was plain speaking; but who will say that it was not needed?
3. "The Benefits of an Early Piety: A Sermon preached at Bow Church,
London. Before the Religious Societies, at one of their Quarterly
Meetings, on Wednesday, September 28, 1737. Published at the request
of several of the hearers." (8vo, 26 pp.) Text, Ecclesiastes xii.
12.[107]
[107] This sermon was written, and first preached at Stonehouse, in
the month of May, 1737. (Whitefield's Works, vol. i., p. 25.)
The following extract enunciates a doctrine, on which, in after
years, Whitefield and his friend Wesley differed:--
"If pure religion and undefiled consists in the total renewal of
our corrupted natures, then it is not only a work of difficulty,
but of time; for, as the old was not, so neither is the new
creation completed in a day. No; good men know by experience,
that it is a long while before old things can pass away, and
all things become new in them. The strong man armed has gotten
too great possession of their hearts to be quickly driven out,
and they are obliged to combat many a weary hour before their
corruptions be wholly taken from them. Nay, they find their
whole lives short enough to perfect the work of regeneration,
and never expect to say, It is finished, till, with their
blessed Master, they bow down their heads, and give up the
ghost" (p. 8).
This was Whitefield's theology, but not Wesley's. Whitefield
overlooks the all-sufficiency of the Divine Spirit, and speaks
as though human corruptions are to be destroyed solely by human
endeavours. If this assumption were correct, no one would doubt his
doctrine that the _entire_ sanctification of the soul is impossible
previous to the hour of death. Wesley taught his people to sing--
"I want Thy life, Thy purity,
Thy righteousness, brought in;
I ask, desire, and trust in Thee,
To be redeemed from sin.
Saviour, to Thee my soul looks up,
My present Saviour Thou!
In all the confidence of hope,
I claim the blessing now.
'Tis done: Thou dost this moment save,
With full salvation bless;
Redemption through Thy blood I have,
And spotless love and peace."
4. "The Great Duty of Family Religion: A Sermon preached at the
Parish Church of St. Vedast, Foster Lane. Published at the desire of
the hearers." (8vo, 25 pp.) Text, Joshua xxiv. 15.
One extract will be sufficient to exhibit the young preacher's
earnestness and fidelity:--
"Fifthly and lastly. If neither _gratitude_ to God, _love_ to
your children, common _justice_ to your servants, nor even that
most prevailing motive, _self-interest_, will excite; yet let
a consideration of the _terrors of the Lord_ persuade you to
put in practice the pious resolution in the text. Remember, the
time will come, and that perhaps very shortly, when we must all
appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, where we must give
a solemn and strict account how we have had our conversation,
in our respective families, in this world. How will you endure
to see your children and servants (who ought to be your joy and
crown of rejoicing in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ) coming
out as so many swift witnesses against you; cursing the father
that begat them, the womb that bare them, the paps which they
have sucked, and the day they ever entered into your houses?
Think you not, the damnation which men must endure for their own
sins will be sufficient, that they need load themselves with the
additional guilt of being accessory to the damnation of others
also? Oh, consider this, all ye that forget to serve the Lord
with your respective households, _lest He pluck you away, and
there be none to deliver you_" (p. 23).
5. "The Nature and Necessity of Self-Denial: A Sermon preached at
the Parish Church of St. Andrew, Holborn, on Sunday, October 9,
1737. Published at the request of several who heard it." (8vo, 26
pp.) Text, Luke ix. 23.