WHITEFIELD'S SECOND VISIT TO AMERICA.
1739, 1740.
As in the preceding chapter, for the sake of connecting the history
of Whitefield's church edifices in London, we have anticipated the
order of events, we go back to the period shortly before his second
voyage to America.
About the time of which we are now writing, a circumstance occurred
of deep interest, which Whitefield relates at considerable length.
Joseph Periam, a young man in London, who had read his sermon on
"regeneration," became deeply impressed by it; he sold all that he
possessed, and prayed so loud and fasted so long, that his family
supposed him deranged, and sent him to the Bedlam madhouse, where he
was treated as "methodistically mad," and as "one of Whitefield's
gang." The keepers threw him down, and forced a key into his mouth,
while they drenched him with medicine. He was then placed in a cold
room without windows, and with a damp cellar under it. Periam,
however, found some means of conveying a letter to Whitefield,
requesting both advice and a visit. These were promptly given.
The preacher soon discovered that Periam was not mad; and taking
a Mr. Seward and some other friends with him, he went before the
committee of the hospital to explain the case. It must have been
somewhat of a ludicrous scene. Seward so astounded the committee by
quoting Scripture, that they pronounced him to be as mad as Periam.
The doctors frankly told the deputation, that in their opinion,
Whitefield and his followers were "really beside themselves." It was
however agreed, that if Whitefield would take Periam out to Georgia,
his release would be granted. Thus the conference ended, and the
young man went out as a schoolmaster at the Orphan-house. There he
was exemplary and useful, and when he died two of his sons were
received into the institution.
Mr. Whitefield so successfully pleaded the cause of his American
orphans, that during his journeys of twelve months he collected
upwards of one thousand pounds towards the erection of his intended
house for their accommodation. With this sum in his possession, he
set sail for America the second time, August 14, 1739, accompanied
by his friend Mr. Seward, eight men, one boy, and two children.
While all this was going on, the inhabitants of Georgia were making
every possible preparation for his reception. The records of the
trustees say, May 16, 1739, "Read a commission to the Rev. George
Whitefield to perform all religious and ecclesiastical offices at
Savannah, in Georgia." Again: "June 2, 1739. Sealed a grant of five
hundred acres of land to the Rev. George Whitefield, in trust for
the use of the house to be erected and maintained for the receiving
such children as now are, and shall hereafter be left orphans in
the colony of Georgia, in pursuance of the direction of the Common
Council held the 30th of last month."
Not only was Whitefield anxious to establish the orphan-house
for the benefit of the whole colony of Georgia, but having been
ordained priest, for the purpose of instructing the inhabitants of
the town of Savannah, he was desirous of making full proof of his
ministry among them. After a passage of nine weeks he landed at
Philadelphia, and was immediately invited to preach in the churches;
to which people of all denominations thronged as in England. He
was especially pleased to find that they preferred sermons when
"not delivered within the church walls." And it was well they did,
for his fame had arrived in the city before him, and crowds were
collected to hear him which no church could contain.
A letter written on this voyage to America has recently come to
light, which beautifully illustrates the spirit by which Whitefield
was now animated. It was addressed to the Rev. John Cumming of
Andover, Hampshire, England.
"Wrote at Sea, dated at Philadelphia, Nov. 9, 1739.
"REVEREND AND DEAR SIR--You see by my writing this how willing
I am to cultivate a correspondence with you. I wish Christians
in general, and ministers of Christ in particular, were better
acquainted. The cause of Christ thereby must be necessarily
promoted. But bigotry and sectarian zeal have been the bane of
our holy religion. Though we have one Lord, one faith, and one
baptism, yet if we do not all worship God in one particular
way, we behave to each other like Jews and Samaritans. Dear
sir, I hope that neither of us have so learned Christ. Blessed
be God for his free grace in Christ. The partition wall has
for some time been broken down out of my heart, and I can truly
say, whosoever loves the Lord Jesus, 'the same is my brother,
and sister, and mother.' For this reason, dear sir, I love you.
For this reason, though I decrease, yet I heartily wish you may
increase, even with all the increase of God. I am persuaded
you are like-minded. I believe my friends have prayed for me.
The Lord hath dealt most lovingly with me his servant. He has
chastened and corrected, but hath not given me over into the
hands of the enemy. A future journal will acquaint you with
particulars. What I have sent over to be published will afford
you abundant matter for thanksgiving in behalf of,
"Dear sir, your affectionate friend,
Brother, and servant,
"G. WHITEFIELD."
The old court-house of Philadelphia, then standing on Second and
Market streets, had a balcony, which several years before the visit
of Whitefield had been often used instead of a pulpit. In 1736, we
find that Mr. Abel Noble had preached "from the court-house steps,"
on a Monday, to a large congregation standing in Market-street,
on the subject of keeping the Sabbath. In the same year, Michael
Welfare appeared there to give his "warning voice," and now, in
1739, it became one of the favorite preaching stands of the great
evangelist. Here he stood, surrounded by many thousands, even down
to the side of the Delaware river, not a few bathed in tears, and
inquiring after the way of salvation.
[Illustration: OLD COURT-HOUSE, PHILADELPHIA.]
[Illustration: TENNENT CHURCH, FREEHOLD, N. J. p. 117.]
Dr. Franklin says, "The multitudes of all sects and denominations
that attended his sermons were enormous; and it was a matter
of speculation with me to observe the influence of his oratory
on his hearers, and how much they admired and respected him,
notwithstanding his common abuse of them, by assuring them that
they were, naturally, half beasts and half devils. It was wonderful
to see the change soon made in the manners of our inhabitants.
From being thoughtless and indifferent about religion, it seemed
as if all the world was growing religious; so that one could not
walk through the town in an evening without hearing psalms sung in
different families in every street."
A constant attendant on his ministry at this time says, "His
hearers were never weary; every eye was fixed on his expressive
countenance; every ear was charmed with his melodious voice; every
heart captivated with the beauty and propriety of his address. He
was no contracted bigot; all denominations partook of his religious
charity. Anxious in America for our civil privileges, he was alike
solicitous for the spiritual and temporal happiness of mankind. No
man since the apostolic age preached oftener or with better success.
He was, moreover, a polite gentleman, a faithful friend, an engaging
companion, and a sincere Christian. His sermons in the open air
lasted about one and a half hours."
Watson, in his "Annals of Philadelphia," speaking of Whitefield's
first visit to that city, tells us that he preached to a crowd of
fifteen thousand persons on Society hill, and adds, "About the same
time he so far succeeded to repress the usual public amusements,
that the dancing-school was discontinued, and the ball and concert
rooms were shut up, as inconsistent with the requisitions of the
gospel. No less than fourteen sermons were preached on Society hill
in the open air in one week, during the session of the Presbyterian
church; and the gazette of the day, in noticing the fact, says,
'The change to religion here is altogether surprising, through the
influence of Whitefield; no books sell but religious, and such is
the general conversation.'"
It is said, that though some gentlemen broke open the
assembly-rooms, no company could be induced to visit them. Such was
the popularity of Whitefield, that when he left the city, about
one hundred and fifty gentlemen accompanied him as far as Chester,
fifteen miles from Philadelphia, where he preached to about seven
thousand people. At White Clay creek, he preached to eight thousand
people, three thousand of whom, it is said, were on horseback. Many
complimentary effusions to him appeared in the newspapers, and James
Pemberton, a very distinguished _Friend_, said of him, "In his
conversation he is very agreeable, and has not much of the priest;
he frequents no set company."
An old gentleman assured Watson, the annalist, that on one occasion
the words, "And he taught them, saying," as pronounced by Whitefield
on Society hill, were heard at Gloucester point, a distance by water
of two miles.
Abundant reasons might be assigned for our introducing in this place
an account of the institution called "the Log college." It has
proved the parent of every collegiate and theological institution
connected with the large and wealthy body of Presbyterians in this
country; it was originated by a family which became especially
endeared to Mr. Whitefield; and from his journal, recording his
visit to it, we have, in some respects at least, the clearest
statement of facts concerning it which history has preserved.
As we have already shown, about one hundred and forty years ago,
the state of religion, both in Europe and America, was very low.
Nor was the condition of the Presbyterian body an exception. As
the late Dr. Alexander, in his interesting volume, called "The Log
College," says, "The ministers composing the Presbyterian church
in this country were sound in the faith, and strongly attached to
the Westminster confession of faith and catechisms, as were also
their people; and there were no diversities or contentions among
them respecting the doctrines of the gospel; but as to the vital
power of godliness, there is reason to believe that it was little
known or spoken of. Revivals of religion were nowhere heard of,
and an orthodox creed, and a decent external conduct were the only
points on which inquiry was made, when persons were admitted to
the communion of the church. Indeed, it was very much a matter of
course, for all who had been baptized in infancy, to be received
into communion at the proper age, without exhibiting or possessing
any satisfactory evidence of a change of heart by the supernatural
operations of the Holy Spirit. And the habit of their preachers was
to address their people as though they were all pious, and only
needed instruction and confirmation."
Such was the lamentable state of things when the Rev. William
Tennent, sen., an Irish clergyman past the middle stage of life
arrived in this country, about the year 1716. After laboring for
a season in the state of New York, till about 1721, he received
an invitation to settle at Bensalem, where he ministered to the
small Presbyterian congregation till 1726, when he was called to
Neshaminy, in the same county, where he labored for the rest of
his life, living till 1746, when he died, aged seventy-three. In
Neshaminy the good man felt that he was called not only to discharge
the duties of a preacher and pastor, but to look over the whole
country, and to devise means for the extension of the cause of
Christ. He had himself four sons, the subjects of divine grace, and
blessed with talents for usefulness in the kingdom of the Redeemer,
and he felt that when other young men rose up in the church, favored
with ministerial talents, they also would need mental cultivation.
Hence his determination to erect the humble building of which we now
write, which was the first Presbyterian literary and theological
institution in this country, the immediate parent of the college at
Princeton, and from which, indeed, all similar institutions emanated.
The site of the Log college is about a mile from Neshaminy creek,
where the Presbyterian church has long stood. The ground near and
around it lies handsomely to the eye, and the more distant prospect
is very beautiful; for while there is a considerable extent of
fertile, well-cultivated land, nearly level, the view is bounded to
the north and west by a range of hills, which have a very pleasing
appearance. Mr. Whitefield has left in his "Journal," the only
description we have of the building. "The place," says he, "wherein
the young men study now, is in contempt called 'the college.' It
is a log-house about twenty feet long, and nearly as many broad;
and to me it seemed to resemble the school of the old prophets, for
their habitations were mean. That they sought not great things for
themselves is plain from these passages of Scripture, wherein we are
told that each of them took a beam to build them a house; and that
at the feast of the sons of the prophets, one of them put on the
pot, while the others went to fetch some herbs out of the field. All
that we can say of most of our universities is, they are glorious
without. From this despised place, seven or eight worthy ministers
of Jesus have lately been sent forth; more are almost ready to be
sent, and the foundation is now laying for the instruction of many
others."
Of the senior Tennent, the founder of the Log college, little more
is known than what we have already given. He was a member of the
synod of Philadelphia, who were satisfied with his reasons for
leaving the Established church of Ireland, and for several years
this body cordially coöperated with him in his zealous labors.
Their unity of feeling, however, seems to have declined. This we
learn from a passage in Whitefield's "Journal," which also gives
us a beautiful view of the good old man. "At my return home, was
much comforted by the coming of one Mr. Tennent, an old gray-headed
disciple and soldier of Jesus Christ. He keeps an academy about
twenty miles from Philadelphia, and has been blest with four
gracious sons, three of which have been, and still continue to be
eminently useful in the church of Christ. He brought three pious
souls along with him, and rejoiced me by letting me know how they
had been evil spoken of for their Master's sake. He is a great
friend of Mr. Erskine, of Scotland; and as far as I can learn, both
he and his sons are secretly despised by the generality of the
synod, as Mr. Erskine and his friends are hated by the judicatories
of Edinburgh, and as the Methodist preachers, as they are called,
are by their brethren in England."
Not long after this, the Log college was visited by Whitefield, who
wrote the account we have already given. He also says, under the
date of Nov. 29, 1739, "Set out for Neshaminy, twenty miles distant
from Trent Town, where old Mr. Tennent lives, and keeps an academy,
and where I was to preach to-day, according to appointment. About
twelve o'clock, we came thither, and found about three thousand
people gathered together in the meeting-house yard. Mr. William
Tennent, junior, an eminent servant of Jesus Christ, because we
stayed beyond the time appointed, was preaching to them. When
I came up, he soon stopped; sung a psalm, and then I began to
speak as the Lord gave me utterance. At first, the people seemed
unaffected, but in the midst of my discourse, the power of the Lord
Jesus came upon me, and I felt such a struggling within myself for
the people as I scarce ever felt before. The hearers began to be
melted down immediately, and to cry much; and we had good reason
to hope the Lord intended good for many. After I had finished, Mr.
Gilbert Tennent gave a word of exhortation, to confirm what had
been delivered. At the end of his discourse, we sung a psalm, and
dismissed the people with a blessing; O that the people may say Amen
to it. After our exercises were over, we went to old Mr. Tennent's,
who entertained us like one of the ancient patriarchs. His wife,
to me seemed like Elizabeth, and he like Zachary; both, as far as
I can learn, walk in the commandments and ordinances of the Lord
blameless. Though God was pleased to humble my soul, so that I was
obliged to retire for a while, yet we had sweet communion with each
other, and spent the evening in concerting what measures had best
be taken for promoting our dear Lord's kingdom. It happened very
providentially that Mr. Tennent and his brethren are appointed to be
a presbytery by the synod, so that they intend bringing up gracious
youths, and sending them out from time to time into the Lord's
vineyard."
We may be permitted to add here, that among the ministers sent out
by Mr. Tennent, from the Log college, to preach the gospel, were his
four sons, Gilbert, William, John, and Charles, the Rev. Messrs.
Samuel Blair, John Blair, Charles Beatty, and Rev. Dr. Samuel J.
Finley, President of Princeton College; of some of these excellent
men the reader will hear again in the course of this volume.
In reference to his first visit to Philadelphia, Whitefield thus
writes: "I have scarcely preached among them, but I have seen a
stirring among the dry bones. Go where I will, I find people with
great gladness receive me into their houses. Sometimes I think I am
speaking to stocks and stones; but before I have done, the power
of the Lord comes over them, and I find I have been ploughing up
some fallow ground, in a place where there has been a great famine
of the word of God. But as God's word increases, so will the rage
and opposition of the devil. Scoffers seem to be at a stand what to
say. They mutter in coffee-houses, give a curse, drink a barrel of
punch, and then cry out against me for not preaching more morality.
Poor men, if God judges them, as he certainly will do, by _their_
morality, out of their own mouths will he condemn them. Their
morality, falsely so called, will prove their damnation. God has
enlarged my heart to pray. Tears trickle down my face, and I am in
great agony; but the Lord is pleased to set his seal to what he
enables me to deliver. Amid cries and groans in the congregation,
God gives me much freedom of speech. Many people and many ministers
weep. My own soul is much carried out. I preached to a vast assembly
of sinners; nearly twelve thousand were collected; and I had not
spoken long, before I perceived numbers melting; as I proceeded, the
power increased, and thousands cried out; never before did I see so
glorious a sight. Oh, what strong crying and tears were poured forth
after the dear Lord Jesus! Some fainted; and when they had gotten a
little strength, they would hear and faint again. Never was my soul
filled with greater power. Oh, what thoughts and words did God put
into my heart. As great, if not greater commotion was in the hearts
of the people. Look where I would, most were drowned in tears."
An aged man who was living in 1806, and who well remembered the
scenes he witnessed, bore testimony that after this visit of the
great evangelist, public worship was regularly celebrated in
Philadelphia twice a day for a whole year; and that on the Lord's
day it was celebrated three, and frequently four times in each
church. He said there were not less than twenty-six societies
regularly held for prayer and Christian conference.
Such was the influence of Whitefield, not only in Philadelphia, but
throughout the colony of Pennsylvania, that in the city attention to
commerce was suspended, and in the country the cultivation of the
land for the time being was abandoned, that people might hear him
proclaim the gospel of the Lord Jesus.
Among other very striking conversions in Philadelphia at this
period, was that of a young lady, who had for several years made
a public profession of Christianity, but who now became fully
convinced that "she was totally unacquainted with vital piety."
When Mr. Whitefield began his labors in that city, she was greatly
affected by his preaching, on which she constantly attended, and
often afterwards told her friends, that after the first sermon she
heard him preach, she was ready to say with the woman of Samaria,
"Come see a man who told me all things that ever I did." The
preacher, she said, so exactly described all the secret workings of
her heart, her wishes, and her actions, that she really believed
he was either more than human, or else that he was supernaturally
assisted to know her heart. She was not then aware that all depraved
hearts are much alike, and that he who in lively colors can paint
one, gives a description which will be recognized by many as their
own. This young lady once walked twenty miles to hear a sermon
from Whitefield; she became a most eminent Christian, and was one
of the constituent members of the church organized by Mr. Tennent.
She married Mr. Hugh Hodge, who was also one of the seals of Mr.
Whitefield's ministry, and a deacon of the church, and for more than
sixty years she eminently "adorned the gospel of God in all things."
During this first visit of Mr. Whitefield to Philadelphia, another
interesting circumstance occurred. Whitefield preached one evening
standing on the steps of the court-house, in Market-street,
which became, as we have said, his favorite spot during that and
subsequent visits. A youth some thirteen years of age stood near
him, and held a lantern for his accommodation; but becoming deeply
absorbed in the sermon, and strongly agitated, the lantern fell from
his hands, and was dashed in pieces. Those near the boy, observing
the cause of the accident, felt specially interested, and for a
few moments the meeting was discomposed by the occurrence. Some
fourteen years afterwards, Mr. Whitefield, on his fifth visit to
this country, was visiting St. George's, in Delaware. He was one
day riding out with the Rev. Dr. John Rodgers, then settled as the
minister at St. George's, in the closed carriage in which Whitefield
generally rode. Mr. Rodgers asked him whether he recollected the
occurrence of the little boy who was so affected with his preaching
as to let his lantern fall. Mr. Whitefield replied, "O yes, I
remember it well; and have often thought I would give almost any
thing in my power, to know who that little boy was, and what had
become of him." Mr. Rodgers replied with a smile, "I am that little
boy." Mr. Whitefield, with tears of joy, started from his seat, took
him in his arms, and with strong emotion remarked, that he was the
_fourteenth_ person then in the ministry whom he had discovered in
the course of that visit to America, in whose conversion he had,
under God, been instrumental.
From Philadelphia, Whitefield was invited by Mr. Noble to New
York; this gentleman being the only person with whom he then had
an acquaintance in that city. Upon his arrival, he waited with his
friend on the commissary, but he refused to Whitefield the use of
the church. This commissary of the bishop, he says, "was full of
anger and resentment, and denied me the use of his pulpit before I
asked for it. He said they did not want my assistance. I replied,
that if they preached the gospel, I wished them good luck: I will
preach in the fields; for all places are alike to me." The undaunted
evangelist therefore preached in the fields; and on the evening of
the same day, to a very thronged and attentive audience, in the Rev.
Mr. Pemberton's meeting-house, in Wall-street; and continued to do
so twice or three times a day, with apparent success.
Of this visit to New York, and of Whitefield's labors there,
we have a graphic account, furnished by one of his hearers, for
"Prince's Christian History." Of the first sermon in the fields,
the writer says, "I fear curiosity was the motive that led me
and many others into that assembly. I had read two or three of
Mr. Whitefield's sermons and part of his Journal, and from them
had obtained a settled opinion, that he was a good man. Thus far
was I prejudiced in his favor. But then having heard of so much
opposition, and many clamors against him, I thought it possible he
might have carried matters too far; that some enthusiasm might have
mixed itself with his piety, and that his zeal might have exceeded
his knowledge. With these prepossessions I went into the fields.
When I came there, I saw a great number of people, consisting of
Christians of all denominations, some Jews, and a few, I believe,
of no religion at all. When Mr. Whitefield came to the place
designated, which was a little eminence on the side of a hill, he
stood still and beckoned with his hand, and disposed the multitude
upon the descent, before, and on each side of him. He then prayed
most excellently, in the same manner, I suppose, that the first
ministers of the Christian church prayed. The assembly soon appeared
to be divided into two companies, the one of which I considered
as God's church, and the other the devil's chapel. The first were
collected round the minister, and were very serious and attentive;
the last had placed themselves in the skirts of the assembly,
and spent most of their time in giggling, scoffing, talking, and
laughing. I believe the minister saw them, for in his sermon,
remarking on the cowardice and shamefacedness in Christ's cause, he
pointed towards _this_ assembly, and reproached the former, those
who seemed to be Christians, with the boldness and zeal with which
the devil's vassals serve him. Towards the last prayer the whole
assembly appeared more united, and all became hushed and still; a
solemn awe and reverence appeared in the faces of most, a mighty
energy attending the word. I heard and felt something astonishing
and surprising, but I confess I was not at that time fully rid of my
scruples. But as I thought I saw a visible presence of God with Mr.
Whitefield, I kept my doubts to myself.
"Under this frame of mind, I went to hear him in the evening at
the Presbyterian church, where he expounded to above two thousand
people within and without doors. I never in my life saw so attentive
an audience. All he said was demonstration, life, and power. The
people's eyes and ears hung on his lips. They greedily devoured
every word. I came home astonished. Every scruple vanished; I never
saw nor heard the like; and I said within myself, 'Surely God is
with this man, of a truth.' He preached and expounded in this manner
twice every day for four days, and his evening assemblies were
continually increasing.
"On Sunday morning at eight o'clock, his congregation consisted of
about fifteen hundred people; but at night several thousands came
together to hear him; and the place being too strait for them, many
were forced to go away, and some, it is said, with tears lamented
their disappointment. After sermon he left New York at ten at night,
to fulfil a promise that he had made to preach at Elizabethtown, at
eleven A. M. the next day."
We give a few paragraphs from the same vigorous pen, relating to
the personal manners and the doctrines of our evangelist. "He is a
man of a middle stature, of a slender body, of a fair complexion,
and of a comely appearance. He is of a sprightly, cheerful temper,
and acts and moves with great agility and life. The endowments of
his mind are very uncommon; his wit is quick and piercing; his
imagination lively and florid; and as far as I can discern, both are
under the direction of an exact and solid judgment. He has a most
ready memory, and I think speaks entirely without notes. He has a
clear and musical voice, and a wonderful command of it. He uses much
gesture, but with great propriety. Every accent of his voice, every
motion of his body _speaks_, and both are natural and unaffected. If
his delivery is the product of art, it is certainly the perfection
of it, for it is entirely concealed. He has a great mastery of
words, but studies much plainness of speech.
"His doctrine is right _sterling_. I mean, perfectly agreeable
to the Articles of the church of England, to which he frequently
appeals for the truth of it. He loudly proclaims all men by nature
to be under sin, and obnoxious to the wrath and curse of God. He
maintains the absolute necessity of supernatural grace to bring
men out of this state. He asserts the righteousness of Christ to
be the only cause of the justification of the sinner; that this is
received by faith; that this faith is the gift of God; that where
faith is wrought, it brings the sinner under the deepest sense of
his guilt and unworthiness to the footstool of sovereign grace, to
accept of mercy as the free gift of God, only for Christ's sake. He
denies that good works have any share in our justification: that
indeed they do justify our faith, and necessarily flow from it,
as streams from the fountain; but Christ's external righteousness
imputed to us, and his inherent righteousness wrought in us, is the
only cause of man's salvation. He asserts the absolute necessity of
the new birth, where a principle of new life is ingenerated in the
heart of man, and an entire change is produced in the temper and
disposition of the soul; and that this new production is the work
only of God's blessed Spirit. That wherever this change is wrought,
it is permanent and abiding, and that the gates of hell shall never
prevail against it. He asserts that the special influence and
indwelling of the Spirit, was not peculiar to the first Christians,
but that it is the common privilege of believers in all ages of the
church; that the Holy Spirit is the author of the sanctification and
comfort of all God's people; and that, even in these days, if any
man have not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his. He said, that
to many of his hearers, he feared he spoke in an unknown tongue;
that he preached great mysteries; that true Christians knew what he
meant, and that all his hearers, if they are saved, must be brought
to understand them. These are some of the doctrines which have been
attended with such mighty power in this city. This is the doctrine
of the martyrs. This they sealed with their blood; notwithstanding
that so many in our days have departed from it.
"Mr. Whitefield speaks much of the language of the New Testament;
and has an admirable faculty in explaining the Scriptures. He
strikes out of them such lights, and unveils those excellencies
which surprise his hearers, when he expounds them. He expresses the
highest love and concern for the souls of men; and speaks of Christ
with the most affectionate appropriation--'_My Master! My Lord!_' He
is no enemy to the innocent freedoms and liberties of the gospel;
nor does he affect singularity in indifferent things. He spends
not his zeal in trifles, but says, 'The kingdom of God consists
not in meats and drinks; but in righteousness, and peace, and joy
in the Holy Ghost.' He breathes a most catholic spirit, and prays
most earnestly that God would destroy all that bigotry and party
zeal which has divided Christians. He supposes some of Christ's
flock are to be found under every denomination, and upbraids the
uncharitableness of those who confine the church to their own
communion. He professes a most sincere love to all those who love
our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, and declares that he has no
design to make a party in religion. He professes that his whole
design in preaching the gospel is to bring men to Christ, to deliver
them from their false confidences, to raise them from their dead
formalities, and to revive primitive Christianity among them; and
if he can obtain this end, he will leave them to their liberty, and
they may go to what church, and worship God in what form they like
best."
While going from Philadelphia to New York, or on his return,
Whitefield appears to have preached at Maidenhead, Abington,
Neshaminy, Freehold, Burlington, Elizabethtown, and New Brunswick,
to many thousands, gathered from various parts, among whom there
had been a considerable awakening under the ministry of Mr.
Frelinghuysen, a Reformed Dutch minister, and the Rev. Messrs.
Tennent, Blair, and Rowland. It was no less pleasing to him than
strange to see such congregations in a foreign land; ministers
and people shedding tears, sinners struck with awe, and religious
persons who had been much persecuted, filled with joy. The old
_Tennent church_ at Freehold, where preached Whitefield, Brainerd,
Davies, and other "famous men" of that day, still echoes with the
same gospel. In size the building is forty feet by sixty, with three
entrances on the larger side. The pulpit is on the north side of the
house, immediately opposite the central door, so that the minister
faces the width of the church instead of its length. The pulpit is
very narrow, and is surmounted with a sounding-board, according
to the custom of our fathers. In the middle aisle lie buried the
remains of the sainted William Tennent, whose death took place about
seven years after that of Whitefield, at the age of seventy-two
years. A handsome monumental tablet records the leading dates of his
pilgrimage.
Some of our readers may inquire as to the localities honored by
Whitefield's preaching in and about the city of New York. We
find many records of his discoursing in the open fields of the
surrounding country; the old City Exchange, which stood at the
foot of Broad-street, near Water-street, and which was built on
large arches, was a favorite spot for itinerant preachers, and for
Whitefield among the rest. During his various visits to New York,
from 1745 to 1760, he generally preached in the Presbyterian church
in Wall-street, which was then the only church of that denomination
in the city, and of which the Rev. Dr. Pemberton, from Boston, was
the minister. Afterwards, a few years before his death, he was
accustomed to preach in the Brick church in Beekman-street; which
was then familiarly called the "Brick meeting," and in common
parlance, said to be "in the fields;" so little was the city
extended at that period. So prosperous was his ministry in New York,
that it was found necessary immediately to enlarge the Presbyterian
church in Wall-street, by the erection of galleries; and a year or
two afterwards it was again enlarged about one-third, in order to
accommodate the stated worshippers.
When Whitefield was preaching before a very large number of the
seamen of New York, he introduced the following bold apostrophe into
his sermon: "Well, my boys, we have a cloudless sky, and are making
fine headway over a smooth sea, before a light breeze, and we shall
soon lose sight of land. But what means this sudden lowering of
the heavens, and that dark cloud arising from beneath the western
horizon? Hark! don't you hear the distant thunder? Don't you see
those flashes of lightning? There is a storm gathering. Every man
to his duty. How the waves rush and dash against the ship! The
air is dark. The tempest rages. Our masts are gone! What next?"
The unsuspecting tars, reminded of former perils on the deep, as
if struck by the power of magic, arose, and with united voices
exclaimed, "Take to the longboat, sir!" The reader may well imagine
how this very natural answer would be used by the preacher.
While at New York, Whitefield wrote, "God willing, in about
seven months I hope to see New England on my return to Europe.
An effectual door is there opened, and no wonder there are many
adversaries. Shortly I expect to suffer for my dear Master." And
after his return to Philadelphia, he showed his piety and meekness
by writing to the Rev. Dr. Pemberton, of New York, "I have been much
concerned since I saw you, lest I behaved not with that humility
towards you which is due from a babe to a father in Christ; but
you know, reverend sir, how difficult it is to meet with success,
and not be puffed up with it; and therefore, if any such thing was
discernible in my conduct, O pity me, and pray to the Lord to heal
my pride. All I can say is, that I desire to learn of Jesus Christ
to be meek and lowly in heart; but my corruptions are so strong, and
my employ so dangerous, that I am sometimes afraid."
One of the most important incidents of this journey to New York,
was the meeting of Whitefield with Gilbert Tennent. Two powerful
preachers could hardly resemble each other less; and the great
strength of each lay in characteristics in which the other was
deficient. In one point, especially, Whitefield felt and recorded
his new friend's superiority. He heard Tennent preach. "Never before
heard I such a searching sermon. He went to the bottom indeed, and
did not 'daub with untempered mortar.' He convinced me, more and
more, that we can preach the gospel of Christ no further than we
have experienced the power of it in our hearts. I found what a babe
and novice I was in the things of God." These men, as Tracy says,
having once met, could not but be friends and allies for life; and
the effects of their alliance could not fail to be felt by thousands.
Both at Philadelphia and New York, printers applied to Whitefield
for copies of his sermons for publication, and two were so issued,
in the influence of which their author had cause to rejoice. In an
after-period, the celebrated Benjamin Franklin printed Whitefield's
"Journal in New England," still extant; a copy of which was sold at
auction in Philadelphia in 1855, for about thirty times its original
price. His journals, indeed, and his sermons became considerable
articles in commerce, and did not a little, amid the comparatively
sparse population of the country, to extend both his fame and his
usefulness.
But the time was now come when it became important that Whitefield
should pursue his course towards Savannah. He could not, however,
regret his stay so long on the road. "It is unknown," he says, "what
deep impressions have been made on the hearts of hundreds. Many poor
sinners have, I trust, been called home, and great numbers are under
strong convictions. An opposer told me I had unhinged many _good
sort of people_. I believe it."
Nor was this the only good he had done. No small sympathy had been
excited among Christian people in favor of his orphan family, and a
spirit of liberality and of prayer was extensively cherished. "They
sent me," says the grateful evangelist, "butter, sugar, chocolate,
pickles, cheese, and flour, for my orphans; and indeed, I could
almost say, they would pluck out their own eyes and give me. O that
what God says of the church of Philadelphia may now be fulfilled in
the city called after her name--'I know thy works.'"
The ready liberality which everywhere met Whitefield, determined
him to pursue his journey by land. He therefore procured a vessel,
in which he sent on his family and their supplies to Savannah. Of
this sloop, Captain Gladman was master; and a young man who had
recently been converted by the preaching of the great evangelist,
willingly offered himself as mate. We have already seen that he was
accompanied southward as far as Chester by a very large company of
gentlemen of Philadelphia; and on his arrival at that place, a court
was about to open, but the judges sent him word that they would
not commence their business until the sermon, which they expected
from him, was over. Nearly a thousand people had travelled from
Philadelphia to hear it, and it was thought that those collected
from places many miles around, composed an assembly of not less than
seven thousand persons. A platform was erected, and it was believed
that many of his hearers obtained something infinitely better than
the mere gratification of their curiosity.
Among other places at which he preached on this journey, was White
Clay creek, endeared to him not only as the place where he first met
with his beloved friend William Tennent, but as the residence of
a Welsh family who had heard him preach at Cardiff and Kingswood
before they emigrated, and who bore, what was to him a fact of
endearing interest, the name of _Howell_. But during this tour
Whitefield had to endure considerable privations and peril in riding
through the woods. On one occasion, he heard the wolves "howling
like a kennel of hounds" near to the road; on another, he had a
narrow escape in trying to cross the Potomac in a storm. Here also
he had once to swim his horse, owing to the floods; for it was now
the depth of winter. One night, Seward and he lost their way in the
woods of South Carolina, and were much alarmed at seeing groups
of negroes dancing around large fires. Notwithstanding all the
hardships, however, of the journey, no real injury was sustained
from it.
Our evangelist at length arrived at Charleston in good health and
spirits. But he could not obtain admittance to St. Philip's church;
Garden, the commissary, who had once promised to "defend him with
life and fortune," was absent, and the curate would not open the
doors without his leave. The people, however, had not forgotten him,
and the Rev. Josiah Smith, the congregational minister, and the
pastor of the French church, at once threw open their houses and
pulpits, and rich indeed were the blessings they enjoyed.
The congregations during his present visit to Charleston were large
and polite; but he says they presented "an affected finery and
gayety of dress and deportment, which I question if the court-end
of London could exceed." Before he left, however, there was what
he called "a glorious alteration in the audience." Many of them
wept; and the hitherto light and airy had visibly strong feelings,
as shown in their countenances. Such was their extreme anxiety to
hear more from him, that after he had gone to the shore to sail for
Georgia, they prevailed on him to preach again.
On the next morning, Whitefield and his companions left Charleston
in a canoe for Savannah; and on their way lay on the ground in the
woods, surrounded by large fires to keep off the wild beasts. On
this fact he makes the reflection, "An emblem, I thought, of the
divine love and presence keeping off evils and corruptions from the
soul." On his arrival at Savannah, January 11, 1740, he was very
happy to meet his family, who had arrived there three weeks before
him; and to find, by letters from England, New York, etc., that the
work of the Lord prospered. One thing, however, greatly distressed
him. The colony of Georgia was reduced even to a much lower state
than when he left it, and was deserted by nearly all who could get
away. He thought that to employ those who were left, would render
them an important service, and that the money thus expended might be
the means of keeping them in the colony.
During the absence of Mr. Whitefield from Georgia, Mr. Habersham
had fixed on a plot of ground of five hundred acres, about ten
miles from Savannah, on which the orphan-house should stand, and
had already commenced to clear and stock it. The orphans, in the
mean time, were accommodated in a hired house. Whitefield afterwards
regretted the course pursued. He found the condition of the orphans
so pitiable, and the inhabitants so poor, that he immediately
opened an infirmary, hired a large house at a great rent, and took
in, at different times, twenty-four orphans.
In the March following, Whitefield was again at Charleston, where he
went to meet his brother, the captain of a ship, from England. Here
he was requested by many of the inhabitants to give some account of
his poor orphans, which he did in the house of worship occupied by
his friend the Rev. Josiah Smith, the first native of South Carolina
who received a literary degree. Such was the spirit excited, that
the collection amounted to seventy pounds sterling. This was no
small encouragement, especially as he had reason to believe that
most of it came from those who had received spiritual benefit from
his ministry.
But if Whitefield now had his joys in Charleston, so he had also
his sorrows. We have seen that in a previous visit to this city,
he had considered himself "set for the defence of the gospel." He
had remarked, in reference to the twelfth article of the church of
England, "Observe, my dear brethren, the words of the article, 'Good
works are the fruit of faith, and follow after justification.' How
can they then precede, or be in any way the cause of it? No, our
persons must be justified, before our performances can be accepted."
Commissary Garden, of whom we have already spoken, now seized the
opportunity of Whitefield's visit to Charleston, to write him a
letter, dated March 17, attacking his doctrine of justification, and
challenging him to defend what he had said concerning the bishop of
London and his clergy. In this letter, he urged in reply to what
the evangelist had said, "If good works do necessarily spring out
of a true and lively faith, and a true and lively faith necessarily
precedes justification, the consequence is plain, that good works
must not only follow after, but precede justification also."
Whitefield replied the next day, "I perceive that you are angry
overmuch. Was I never so much inclined to dispute, I would stay
till the cool of the day. Your letter more and more confirms me,
that my charge against the clergy is just and reasonable. It would
be endless to enter into such a private debate as you, reverend
sir, seem desirous of. You have read my sermon: be pleased to read
it again; and if there be any thing contrary to sound doctrine, or
the Articles of the church of England, be pleased to let the public
know it from the press; and then let the world judge whether you or
my brethren the clergy have been rashly slandered." This was but
the commencement of a controversy, in which were concerned Garden
of Charleston, and the Rev. Messrs. Croswell and Gee of Boston,
portions of which are preserved in the Old South church library, in
the latter city; and which was afterwards resumed between Garden
and Smith, of Charleston, in the "South Carolina Gazette," as may
be seen in the library of the American Antiquarian Society at
Worcester, Massachusetts.
In the mean time, Whitefield had returned to Savannah, and on
March 25, he laid the first brick of the main building of the
orphan-house, which he called _Bethesda_, that is, a house of mercy.
It was built of wood, and measured seventy feet by forty. By this
time nearly forty children had been received, to be provided for
with food and raiment; and counting the workmen with these, he had
nearly one hundred persons to feed day by day. To do all this he
had very little money in the bank; still he was not discouraged,
being persuaded that his present duty was to advance the interests
of the colony by carrying on his work. "As yet," says he, "I am
kept from the least doubting. The more my family increases, the
more enlargement and comfort I feel. Set thy almighty _fiat_ to it,
O gracious Father, and for thine own name's sake convince us more
and more, that thou wilt never forsake those who put their trust in
thee." On reviewing this passage fifteen years afterwards, he wrote,
"Hitherto, blessed be God, I have not been disappointed of my hope."
We close our present chapter with a very short visit to Charleston.
In this city Whitefield had assuredly produced a very extraordinary
excitement, and very opposite opinions were entertained in reference
to his character and doctrines. On the day after he had laid the
first stone of Bethesda, Mr. Smith undertook at Charleston to defend
the conduct and character of his beloved friend, in a sermon from
Job 32:17: "I said, I will answer also my part; I also will show
mine opinion." As this discourse was published during the following
June, with a commendatory preface by the Rev. Drs. Colman and Cooper
of Boston, and is still highly valued as a piece of contemporary
history, we give an extract, particularly as to the _manner_ of the
preaching of the great evangelist.
"He is certainly a finished preacher. A noble negligence ran
through his style. The passion and flame of his expressions will,
I trust, be long felt by many. My pen cannot describe his action
and gestures, in all their strength and decencies. He appeared to
me, in all his discourses, to be very deeply affected and impressed
in his own heart. How did that burn and boil within him, when he
spake of the things which he had 'made touching the King.' How was
his tongue like the pen of a ready writer, touched as with a coal
from the altar. With what a flow of words, what a ready profusion
of language, did he speak to us upon the great concerns of our
souls. In what a flaming light did he set _our_ eternity before
us. How earnestly he pressed Christ upon us. How did he move our
passions with the constraining love of _such_ a Redeemer. The awe,
the silence, the attention which sat upon the face of the great
audience, was an argument how he could reign over all their powers.
Many thought he spake as never man spake before him. So charmed
were the people with his manner of address, that they shut up their
shops, forgot their secular business, and laid aside their schemes
for the world; and the oftener he preached, the keener edge he
seemed to put upon their desires to hear him again.
"How awfully, with what thunder and sound, did he discharge the
artillery of heaven upon us. And yet, how could he soften and
melt even a soldier of Ulysses with the mercy of God. How close,
strong, and pungent were his applications to the conscience;
mingling light and heat; pointing the arrows of the Almighty at the
hearts of sinners, while he poured in the balm upon the wounds of
the contrite, and made broken bones rejoice. Eternal themes, the
tremendous solemnities of our religion, were all _alive_ upon his
tongue. So, methinks--if you will forgive the figure--St. Paul would
_look_ and speak in a pulpit. In some such manner, I am tempted to
conceive of a seraph, were he sent down to preach among us, and to
tell us what things he had seen and heard above.
How bold and courageous did he look. He was no flatterer; he would
not suffer men to settle on their lees; and did not prophesy smooth
things, nor sew pillows under their arms. He taught the way of God
in truth, and regarded not the persons of men. He struck at the
politest and most modish of our vices, and at the most fashionable
entertainments, regardless of every one's presence, but His in whose
name he spoke with this authority. And I dare warrant, if none
should go to these diversions until they have answered the solemn
questions he put to their consciences, our theatre would soon sink
and perish. I freely own he has taken my heart."