SIXTH VISIT AND LABORS IN AMERICA--RENEWED LABORS IN GREAT BRITAIN.
1763-1767.
Whitefield was now for the sixth time in America. He was twelve
weeks on the voyage; but though tedious, it had done him good. "I
enjoyed," he says, "that quietness which I have in vain sought after
for some years on shore." Owing to the violence of his asthma, he
had set sail "with but little hopes of farther public usefulness;"
but after being six weeks at sea, he wrote to a friend, "Who knows
but our latter end may _yet_ increase? If not in public usefulness,
Lord Jesus, let it be in heart-holiness. I know who says Amen. I
add, Amen and amen."
On his arrival in Virginia, Whitefield was surrounded by many
Christian friends, the fruits of his former labors in that colony,
but whom he had not hitherto known. It was with great difficulty,
however, that he preached to them; for though his general health
was better, his breathing was very bad. The months of September,
October, and November, he spent in Philadelphia. He says, "Here are
some young bright witnesses rising up in the church. Perhaps I have
already conversed with forty _new creature_ ministers of various
denominations. Sixteen popular students, I am credibly informed,
were converted in New Jersey college last year. What an open door if
I had strength! Last Tuesday we had a remarkable season among the
Lutherans; children and grown people were much impressed." Ill as he
was, he preached twice a week, and with his usual success.
He intensely desired at this time to visit Georgia, but was
absolutely prohibited by his physicians, till he had recovered his
strength. In the end of November, therefore, he passed over into New
Jersey, visiting the college, and Elizabethtown. He tells us that
at the college he had "four sweet seasons." His spirits rose at the
sight of the young soldiers who were to fight when he had fallen. It
was now winter, and "cold weather and a warm heart" put him in good
spirits, so that he was able to preach three times a week.
A young man, a member of the college, hearing that Whitefield was
to preach in the neighborhood, and being more than a little anxious
to ascertain whether he really deserved all the celebrity he
enjoyed, went to hear him. The day was very rainy, and the audience
was small; the preacher, accustomed to address thousands, did not
feel his powers called forth as at other times. After having heard
about one-third part of the sermon, the young man said to himself,
"The man is not so great a wonder after all--quite commonplace and
superficial--nothing but show, and not a great deal of that;" and
looking round upon the audience, he saw that they appeared about as
uninterested as usual, and that old father ----, who sat directly
in front of the pulpit, and who always went to sleep after hearing
the text and plan of the sermon, was enjoying his accustomed nap.
About this time, Whitefield stopped. His face went rapidly through
many changes, till it looked more like a rising thunder-cloud than
any thing else; and beginning very deliberately, he said, "If I had
come to speak to you in my own name, you might rest your elbows upon
your knees, and your heads upon your hands, and sleep; and once in a
while look up and say, 'What does the babbler talk of?' But I have
not come to you in my own name. No; I have come to you in the name
of the Lord God of hosts, and"--here he brought down his hand and
foot at once, so as to make the whole house ring--"and I must, and
will be heard." Every one in the house started, and old father ----
among the rest. "Aye, aye," continued the preacher, looking at him,
"I have waked you up, have I? I meant to do it. I am not come here
to preach to stocks and stones; I have come to you in the name of
the Lord God of hosts, and I must, and I will have an audience." The
congregation was fully aroused, and the remaining part of the sermon
produced a considerable effect.
From New Jersey, Whitefield passed on to New York, where he says,
"Such a flocking of all ranks I never saw before at New York....
Prejudices have most strangely subsided. The better sort flock as
eagerly as the common people, and are fond of coming for private
gospel conversation. Congregations continue very large, and I trust
saving impressions are made upon many." Such also was his influence
as a philanthropist, that though prejudices ran high against the
Indians, on account of a threatened insurrection in the south, he
collected about six hundred dollars for Dr. Wheelock's Indian school
at Lebanon, Conn., which he soon after visited with much pleasure.
An extract of a letter from New York, dated Jan. 23, 1754, which
appeared in the Boston Gazette, may show the esteem in which he was
held: "The Rev. George Whitefield has spent seven weeks with us,
preaching twice a week, with more general approbation than ever; and
has been treated with great respect by many of the gentlemen and
merchants of this place. During his stay he preached two charity
sermons, the one on the occasion of the annual collection for the
poor, in which double the sum was collected that ever was upon the
like occasion; the other was for the benefit of Mr. Wheelock's
Indian school at Lebanon, for which he collected, notwithstanding
the present prejudices of many people against the Indians, the sum
of one hundred and twenty pounds. In his last sermon, he took a very
affectionate leave of the people of this city, who expressed great
concern at his departure. May God restore this great and good man,
in whom the gentleman, the Christian, and accomplished orator shine
forth with such peculiar lustre, to a perfect state of health, and
continue him long a blessing to the world and the church of Christ."
Leaving New York, he visited and preached, as far as his strength
would allow, at Easthampton Bridge, Hampton, and Southhold, on
Long Island; at Shelter Island, and at New London, Norwich, and
Providence.
Whitefield arrived at Boston in the end of February, 1764, and was
welcomed by multitudes with cordial affection; and again he saw "the
Redeemer's stately steps in the great congregation." Boston at that
time was visited with small-pox, and Whitefield therefore devoted
much of his labor to the adjacent towns. Writing from Concord, he
says, "How would you have been delighted to have seen Mr. Wheelock's
Indians. Such a promising nursery of future missionaries, I believe,
was never seen in New England before. Pray encourage it with all
your might." About two months after his arrival in Boston, his
illness returned, but did not long prevent him from preaching, and
the people still flocked in crowds to hear him. He left Boston for
the south; but messengers were sent to entreat his return, and
especially urged him to renew his six o'clock morning lecture. He
did return, but was now unable to preach at the early hour they
desired; he appeared, however, in the pulpit for some time on
three occasions in the week, and such was the number of converts
discovered, that after he had left it was proposed to send him a
book filled with their names, as desiring his return.
We ought to have said, that according to the Boston Gazette,
about the time of the arrival of Whitefield, "at a meeting of the
freeholders and other inhabitants of the town of Boston, it was
unanimously voted that the thanks of the town be given to the Rev.
George Whitefield, for his charitable care and pains in collecting
a considerable sum of money in Great Britain for the distressed
sufferers by the great fire in Boston, 1760. A respectable committee
was appointed to wait on Mr. Whitefield, to inform him of the vote,
and present him with a copy thereof."
Notwithstanding the earnest entreaties of his friends, he left
Boston in the early part of June. On the first of that month he
wrote, "Friends have even constrained me to stay here, for fear of
running into the summer's heat. Hitherto I find the benefit of it.
Whatever it is owing to, through mercy, I am much better in health
than I was this time twelve months, and can preach thrice a week to
very large auditories without hurt; and every day I hear of some
brought under concern. This is all of grace."
Sorrowfully parting from his friends at Boston, Whitefield left them
for New York by way of New Haven. Here he preached to the students,
and had taken his leave of them; but such was the impression he had
made on their minds, that they requested the president to go after
him, to entreat for another "quarter of an hour's exhortation." He
complied with the request, and the effect was what he called "the
_crown_ of the expedition." He continued at New York till the end of
August. While there he writes, "At present my health is better than
usual, and as yet I have felt no inconvenience from the summer's
heat. I have preached twice lately in the fields, and we sat under
the blessed Redeemer's shadow with great delight. My late excursions
upon Long Island, I trust, have been blessed. It would surprise you
to see above one hundred carriages at every sermon in the new world."
On his way to Philadelphia, in September, Whitefield preached at the
New Jersey college commencement; for which, and for the influence
he had exerted in favor of the institution, the trustees sent him
a vote of thanks. His reception at the college was all he could
desire. The governor and the ex-governor of the state, with many
other gentlemen, attended, and every other mark of respect was shown
him. At Philadelphia, he describes the effect of his labors as
"great indeed," and as usual, he was compelled to exclaim, "Grace,
grace!"
Leaving Pennsylvania, he went on through Virginia; here he tells
us, in places as "unlikely as _Rome_ itself," he found societies of
Christians, formed and led on by a wealthy planter of that colony;
they met him in a body, wishing publicly to identify themselves with
him. "Surely the _Londoners_," he writes, "who are fed to the full,
will not envy the poor souls in these parts. I almost determine to
come back in the spring" from Georgia to them.
On one occasion, while he was preaching in this colony, a Mr. Allen,
afterwards a member of the eminent Mr. Davies' church at Hanover,
and who, with his family, "addicted himself to the ministry of the
saints," fell on the ground at full length, suddenly, as if shot
through the heart, and lay for the remainder of the evening as one
who was dead. His descendants are now very numerous, and many of
them are among the most zealous Christians in that state.
From Virginia, Whitefield proceeded to South Carolina, and, Nov.
22, wrote, "At Newbern, last Sunday, good impressions were made. I
have met with what they call 'New Lights' in almost every place,
and have the names of several of their preachers." Having preached
at Charleston, he passed on to Bethesda, and had the happiness to
find the whole colony in a prosperous condition. Here he spent the
winter, and writes, "Peace and plenty reign at Bethesda. All things
go on successfully. God hath given me great favor in the sight of
the governor, council, and assembly. A memorial was presented for
an additional grant of lands, consisting of two thousand acres. It
was immediately complied with. Both houses addressed the governor
on behalf of the intended college. A warm answer was given; and I
am now putting every thing in repair, and getting every thing ready
for that purpose. Every heart seems to leap for joy at the prospect
of its future usefulness to this and the neighboring colonies. He
who holdeth the stars in his right hand will direct, in due time,
whether I shall directly embark for England, or take one tour more
to the northward. I am in delightful winter quarters for once. His
excellency dined with me yesterday, and expressed his satisfaction
in the warmest terms. Who knows how many youths may be trained up
for the service of the ever-loving and altogether lovely Jesus. Thus
far, however, we may set up our Ebenezer. Hitherto the bush hath
been burning, but is not consumed." To this statement he adds, "Mr.
Wright hath done much in a little time; but he hath worked night and
day, and not stirred a mile for many weeks. Thanks be to God, all
outward things are settled on this side the water. The auditing the
accounts, and laying the foundation for a college, hath silenced
enemies and comforted friends. The finishing of this affair confirms
my call to England at this time."
But the intense anxiety of multitudes to hear his preaching,
prevented Whitefield from leaving America for several months longer.
He had, indeed, as early as the middle of February, determined not
to visit New England till his return from Europe; but arriving at
Charleston, he was compelled to devote to labors there the whole
month of March, and then set out for Philadelphia, preaching at many
places on his way. He says, "All the way from Charleston to this
place the cry is, 'For Christ's sake, stay and preach to us.' Oh for
a thousand lives to spend for Jesus."
The heat of the weather made it indispensable for his health that
he should go to sea, and July 5th he once more arrived in England,
on his last return voyage from America. He says, "We have had but
a twenty-eight days' passage. The transition has been so sudden,
that I can scarcely believe that I am in England. I hope, ere long,
to have a more sudden transition into a better country." When he
arrived in his native land, he was ill of a nervous fever, which
left him extremely weak in body, and unable to exert himself as
formerly. Yet, still intent on his work, he did what he could, in
expectation of soon entering into his eternal rest. "Oh, to end life
well!" he writes; "methinks I have now but one river to pass over.
And we know of One who can carry us over without being ankle deep."
On Whitefield's arrival in England, he found that his excellent
friend the Countess of Huntingdon was erecting a large and beautiful
church edifice in the fashionable city of Bath, and to that place he
at once repaired. There he found several of his clerical brethren
preaching in the private chapel at Bretby Hall, belonging to the
Earl of Chesterfield, who had placed it for the time being at the
disposal of Lady Huntingdon. On Whitefield's arrival, this place was
of necessity exchanged for the Park, where the concourse of people
was as vast as ever.
October 6, he preached the dedicatory sermon of Lady Huntingdon's
church at Bath, to an immense crowd. To his friend Robert Keen,
Esq., one of the managers of his London houses, he wrote, "Could
you have come, and have been present at the opening of the chapel,
you would have been much pleased. The building is extremely plain,
and yet equally grand. A most beautiful original! All was conducted
with great solemnity. Though a wet day, the place was very full, and
assuredly the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls consecrated and
made it holy ground by his presence."
He made but a short stay at Bath, and returned to London, still
feeble and tottering, but still compelled to labor. He had an
interview with his old friend John Wesley, who says of him, "He
seemed to be an old man, being fairly worn out in his Master's
service, though he has hardly seen fifty years; and yet it pleases
God that I, who am now in my sixty-third year, find no disorder,
no weakness, no decay, no difference from what I was at five and
twenty, only that I have fewer teeth, and more gray hairs." Writing
to a friend at Sheerness, in Kent, Jan. 18, 1766, Whitefield says,
"I am sorry to acquaint you that it is not in my power to comply
with your request, for want of more assistance. I am confined in
town with the care of two important posts, when I am only fit to be
put into some garrison among invalids." By some means, however, he
obtained a release, for in March we find him at Bath and Bristol.
Writing, March 17, he says, "The uncertainty of my motions has made
me slow in writing; and a desire to be a while free from London
cares, has made me indifferent about frequent hearing from thence.
Last Friday evening, and twice yesterday, I preached at Bath, to
very thronged and brilliant auditories."
Whitefield's interest in America was not lessened by his absence
from it. He ardently loved it, and wished for the return of its
peace and prosperity. He hoped, with many others, that the repeal
of the Stamp Act would lead to this result; hence, we find in his
Letter-book this entry: "March 16, 1766, Stamp Act repealed. _Gloria
Deo._"
Among the remarkable men of his day was Samson Occam. He was
descended, on his mother's side, from Uncas, chief of the Mohegans.
He was born in 1723, of parents who led a wandering life, depending
on hunting and fishing for subsistence. None cultivated their
lands, all dwelt in wigwams, and Samson was one of the very first
of the tribe who learned to read. About the year 1740, at the age
of seventeen, he was converted by the labors of Whitefield, Gilbert
Tennent, and their companions. In a year or two he had learned to
read his Bible with ease, and to his great advantage. He was a
pupil at the school originally founded by Dr. Wheelock, at Lebanon,
Conn., for the benefit exclusively of Indians, four years, and
was then a teacher for eleven years. In 1759, he was ordained by
the Suffolk Presbytery, and became an eminently zealous preacher
to the scattered Mohegans. In 1766, in company with the Rev. Mr.
Whitaker of Norwich, he went to England to advocate the cause of
Dr. Wheelock's Indian school, which school was afterwards merged in
Dartmouth college, of which Mr. Wheelock was also founder and first
president. Occum preached in the churches of Whitefield and Lady
Huntingdon, as well as in some others of different denominations. We
remember half a century ago hearing an old lady at Kidderminster,
the town of Richard Baxter, describe a scene which occurred in
Fawcett's church in that town. Occum had preached, and a handsome
collection had been taken for his object; with tears of gratitude
and joy the good man thanked them, and in tones which neither the
weeping nor the mimetic talent of the old lady would allow her fully
to imitate, assured them that the blessing of many ready to perish
would come upon them. The place was a Bochim, and nothing could
prevent the people from having the plates again carried round, that
they might add to the liberal contributions they had already made.
Occum preached in Great Britain from three to four hundred sermons;
and as no North American Indian had ever preached in England before,
public curiosity was great, and his pecuniary success considerable.
He brought to this country, with his companion, as the produce of
their labors, more than forty-five thousand dollars. In 1772 he
published an interesting sermon which he preached to an Indian at
his execution. An excellent portrait of him was published in England.
Dr. Timothy Dwight writes, "I heard Mr. Occum twice. His
discourses, though not proofs of superior talents, were decent;
and his utterance in some degree eloquent. His character at one
time labored under some imputations; yet there is good reason to
believe that most, if not all of them were unfounded; and there is
satisfactory evidence that he was a man of piety." An account of the
Montauk Indians, written by Occum, is preserved in the "Historical
Collections." He died at New Stockbridge, N. Y., July, 1792. It has
been said that the first Sunday-school in these United States was
founded in the house of his sister, a few months after his death.
Occum was somewhat of a wit, and could well apply his talent in his
conflict with the enemies of divine truth. He once ended a long
controversial conversation with a Universalist, by saying, "Well,
well, remember, if you are correct, I am safe; if you are not
correct, I am safe. I have two strings to my bow; you have but one."
In June, 1766, we again find Whitefield in the neighborhood of
Bristol, whence he writes, "As my feverish heat continues, and the
weather is too wet to travel, I have complied with the advice of
friends, and have commenced a Hot-wells water drinker twice a day.
However, twice this week, at six o'clock in the morning, I have
been enabled to call thirsty souls to come and 'drink of the water
of life freely.' Tomorrow evening, God willing, the call is to be
repeated, and again on Sunday." On his return to London, he writes,
under date of September 25, "Many in this metropolis seem to be on
the wing for God; the shout of a king is yet heard in the Methodist
camp. Had I wings, I would gladly fly from pole to pole; but they
are clipped by thirty years' feeble labors. Twice or thrice a week
I am permitted to ascend my gospel throne. The love of Christ, I am
persuaded, will constrain you to pray that the last glimmering of
an expiring taper may be blessed to the guiding of many, wandering
souls to the Lamb of God."
The good providence of God now gave Whitefield a colleague in the
ministry at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court-road chapel, the Rev.
Torial Joss. This gentleman had spent many years as captain at sea;
converted by divine grace, and filled with holy zeal, he devoted
his popular talents to the welfare of his fellow-men, preaching
both on sea and land. In a remarkable manner, Mr. Whitefield became
acquainted with him, and, without his knowledge, published that he
would preach in his houses of worship, which, though with extreme
reluctance, Joss did. These services were often renewed, and
Whitefield gave him no rest till he abandoned the sea, and devoted
himself to the ministry. Everywhere he was popular, and everywhere
useful. He continued minister of the two places in London--spending
four or five months in each year travelling and preaching--for
twenty-seven years after the death of his friend, and then departed
from earth, in 1797, in holy triumph, in the 66th year of his age.
One of the most extraordinary men in modern times was the late Rev.
Rowland Hill, who erected Surrey chapel, London, and continued to
preach in it till his death, in his eighty-ninth year, in 1833. He
was eminently dignified in person, possessed extraordinary zeal,
and was honored by his great Master with probably more success in
the direct work of saving souls than any other minister of his day.
He was a man of considerable rank, his father being a gentleman of
title, one of his brothers a member of Parliament for many years,
representing his native county, and the late eminent statesman
and soldier Lord Hill was his nephew. Mr. Hill himself in early
life became a Christian, and was educated for the ministry in the
established church, but violated its rules, and preached wherever he
could; for many years he was greatly persecuted by his own family,
some of whom, however, in the end sustained the yoke of Christ.
When Rowland began his somewhat erratic career, the opposition from
his father was so great, that he was reduced sometimes to extreme
poverty; and he was exactly the man to be encouraged by such men
as Whitefield and Berridge. We give a few extracts from letters
addressed to him by Whitefield, which certainly show no small
degree of ardor, though we cannot see in them what Hill's clerical
biographer, Mr. Sidney, professed to find, "an aspiration after the
honors, when he had no prospect of the sufferings of martyrdom." The
fact was, that Mr. Sidney was offended with Whitefield, as he was
with his venerable uncle, Mr. Hill, for having deviated from the
rigid laws of the establishment. It is only needful to introduce
the first letter by saying that it was dated, London, December 27,
1766, and was sent in answer to one in which Mr. Hill had asked his
counsel.
"About thirty-four years ago, the master of Pembroke college,
where I was educated, took me to task for visiting the sick and
going to the prisons. In my haste I said, 'Sir, if it displeaseth
you I will go no more.' My heart smote me immediately; I repented,
and went again; he heard of it--threatened--but for fear he should
be looked on as a persecutor, let me alone. The hearts of all
are in the Redeemer's hands. I would not have you give way; no,
not for a moment. The storm is too great to hold long. Visiting
the sick and imprisoned, and instructing the ignorant, are the
very vitals of true and undefiled religion. If threatened, denied
degree, or expelled _for this_, it will be the best degree you can
take--a glorious preparative for, and a blessed presage of future
usefulness. I have seen the dreadful consequences of giving way and
looking back. How many by this wretched cowardice, and fear of the
cross, have been turned into pillars, not of useful, but of useless
salt. Now is your time to prove the strength of Jesus yours. If
opposition did not so much abound, your consolations would not so
abound. Blind as he is, Satan sees some great good coming on. We
never prospered so much at Oxford as when we were hissed at and
reproached as we walked along the streets, as being counted the
dung and offscouring of all things. That is a poor building which
a little stinking breath of Satan's vassals can throw down. Your
house, I trust, is better founded. Is it not built upon a rock? Is
not that rock the blessed Jesus? The gates of hell, therefore, shall
not be able to prevail against it. Go on, therefore, my dear man, go
on. Old Berridge, I believe, would give you the same advice; you are
honored in sharing his reproach and name. God be praised that you
are enabled to bless when others blaspheme. God bless and direct and
support you. He will, he will. Good Lady Huntingdon is in town; she
will rejoice to hear that you are under the cross. You will not want
her prayers, or the poor prayers of, my dear honest young friend,
yours, in an all-conquering Jesus."
The opposition Mr. Hill met with from his parents increased, and
the threat of his degree being withheld, was, on the part of
the university authorities, more determined; still, however, he
persevered in his preaching and his visits, in violation of the
laws of discipline. In June, 1767, Mr. Whitefield wrote him: "I
wish you joy of the late high dignity conferred upon you--higher
than if you were made the greatest professor in the university of
Cambridge. The honorable degrees you intend giving to your promising
candidates, [allowing some of his fellow-students to preach in the
various places which he had visited,] I trust will excite a holy
ambition, and a holy emulation; let me know who is first honored. As
I have been admitted to the degree of doctor for near these thirty
years, I assure you I like my field preferment, my airy pluralities,
exceedingly well. For these three weeks last past I have been
beating up for fresh recruits in Gloucestershire and South Wales.
Thousands and thousands attended, and good Lady Huntingdon was
present at one of our reviews. Her ladyship's aid-de-camp preached
in Brecknock-street, and Captain Scott, that glorious field-officer,
lately fixed up his standard upon dear Mr. Fletcher's horseblock
at Madeley. Being invited thither, I have a great inclination to
lift up the Redeemer's ensign next week in the same place; with
what success, you and your dearly beloved candidates for good
old methodistical contempt shall know hereafter. God willing, I
intend fighting my way up to town. Soon after my arrival there,
I hope thousands and thousands of volleys of prayers, energetic,
effectual, fervent, heaven-besieging, heaven-opening, heaven-taking
prayers, shall be poured forth for you all. Oh, my dearly beloved
and longed-for in the Lord, my bowels yearn towards you. Fear not
to go without the camp; keep open the correspondence between the
two universities. Remember the praying legions--they were never
known to yield. God bless those that are gone to their respective
_cures_--I say not _livings_, a term of too modern date. Christ is
our life; Christ is the Levite's inheritance, and Christ will be the
true disinterested Levite's lot and portion and all. Greet your dear
young companions whom I saw; they are welcome to write when they
please. God be your physician under your bodily malady. A thorn, a
thorn! but Christ's grace will be sufficient for you. To his tender,
never-failing mercy I commit you."
A few weeks after this, Mr. Hill was much depressed in spirits,
partly from bodily illness, partly because he was about to leave
Cambridge and its surrounding villages, where he had latterly so
frequently preached, but chiefly from the fact that he was going
home, where he would again meet the frowns of his honored parents,
for what they deemed his overrighteousness. In the midst of all
this, however, he knew that he would meet at Hawkstone, his father's
residence, the cordial welcome of his sister and elder brother,
Richard Hill, afterwards a baronet. This gentleman had lately become
a village preacher and a visitor of prisons, like his brother. Under
these circumstances he was addressed by Whitefield, in his own
peculiar and energetic style: "What said our Lord to Martha? 'Did I
not say unto thee, If thou wouldest believe, thou shouldst see the
glory of God?' Blessed, for ever blessed be the God and Father of
our Lord Jesus Christ, for what he hath done for your dear brother.
A preaching, prison-preaching, field-preaching _esquire_, strikes
more than all the black gowns and lawn sleeves in the world. And
if I am not mistaken, the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls will
let the world, and his own children too, know that he will not be
prescribed to in respect to men, or garbs, or places; much less will
he be confined to any order or set of men under heaven. I wish you
both much, very much prosperity. You will have it--_you will have
it_. This is the way, walk ye in it. Both Tabernacle and [Tottenham
Court-road] chapel pulpits shall be open to a captain or an esquire
sent of God. The good news from Oxford is encouraging. Say what they
will, preaching should be one part of the education of a student in
divinity. I pray for you night and day."
On the arrival of Mr. Hill at his father's beautiful seat, it was
his happiness to find that his brother Brian, afterwards useful as
a clergyman, was added to the number of believers in Christ; he
learned also, that one of his college friends had been threatened
to have an exhibition, or yearly gift towards his university
expenses, withdrawn, unless he renounced his evangelical doctrines
and practices. The reader will now understand Mr. Whitefield's
letter: "I have been sadly hindered from answering your last letter,
delivered to me by your brother. I gave it him to read, and we had,
I trust, a profitable conference. God be praised if another of your
brothers is gained. What grace is this! Four or five out of one
family--it is scarcely to be paralleled. Who knows but the root,
as well as the branches, may be taken by and by? Abba, Father, all
things are possible with thee! Steadiness and perseverance in the
children will be one of the best means, under God, of convincing the
parents. This present opposition I think cannot last very long; if
it does, to obey God rather than man, when forbidden to do what is
undoubted duty, is the invariable rule. Our dear Penty [afterwards
the Rev. Thomas Pentycross] is under the cross at Cambridge. But
"'Satan thwarts, and men object,
Yet the thing they thwart effect.'
I should be glad if any one's exhibition was taken from him for
visiting the sick, etc. It would vastly tend to the furtherance of
the gospel; but Satan sees too far, I imagine, to play such a game
now. Let him do his work; he is only a mastiff chained. Continue to
inform me how he barks, and how far he is permitted to go in your
parts; and God's people shall be more stirred up to pray for you
all."
The close of Mr. Hill's life was truly interesting and instructive.
As has been intimated, he preached with scarcely diminished power
until within a few weeks of his death. During the last two or three
years of his life he very frequently repeated the following lines of
an old poet:
"And when I'm to die,
Receive me, I'll cry,
For Jesus has loved me, I cannot tell why;
But this I can find,
We two are so joined,
That he'll not be in glory, and leave me behind."
"The last time he occupied my pulpit," writes his neighbor, the Rev.
George Clayton, "when he preached excellently for an hour, in behalf
of a charitable institution, he retired to the vestry after service
under feelings of great and manifest exhaustion. Here he remained
until every individual except the pew-openers, his servant, and
myself had left the place. At length he seemed with some reluctance
to summon energy enough to take his departure, intimating that it
was in all probability the last time he should preach in Walworth.
His servant went before to open the carriage-door, the pew-openers
remaining in the vestry. I offered my arm, which he declined, and
then followed him as he passed down the aisle of the chapel. The
lights were nearly extinguished, the silence was profound, nothing
indeed was heard but the slow majestic tread of his own footsteps,
when, in an undertone, he thus soliloquized:
"'And when I'm to die,' etc.
To my heart this was a scene of unequalled solemnity, nor can I ever
recur to it without a revival of that hallowed, sacred, shuddering
sympathy which it originally awakened."
When the good old saint lay literally dying, and when apparently
unconscious, a friend put his mouth close to his ear, and repeated
slowly his favorite lines:
"And when I'm to die," etc.
The light came back to his fast-fading eye, a smile overspread his
face, and his lips moved in the ineffectual attempt to articulate
the words. This was the last sign of consciousness which he gave.
We could almost wish that every disciple of Christ would commit
these lines, quaint as they are, to memory, and weave them into
the web of his Christian experience. Confidence in Christ, and
undeviating adherence to him, can alone enable us to triumph in life
and death.
In November, 1766, Whitefield again visited Bath and Bristol, and
then passed on to Gloucestershire and Oxford. Never did so many
of the nobility attend his ministry as he now saw at Bath, and
the results of his whole journey were such as to fill him with
the most devout gratitude. He saw too the number of his clerical
friends largely increasing, and especially rejoiced in the fact
that the excellent Fletcher, of Madeley, preached in his pulpits in
London. He writes of this event, "Dear Mr. Fletcher has become a
_scandalous_ Tottenham Court preacher.... Were we more scandalous,
more good would be done.... Still, 'the shout of a king is yet
heard' in the Methodist camp."
In January, 1767, Whitefield wrote a recommendatory preface to
the works of John Bunyan, whom he pleasantly designated, "Bishop
Bunyan;" and as soon as the weather would permit, we find him
at Norwich, and then at Rodborough, Woodstock, Gloucester, and
Haverfordwest, from which last place he wrote, "Thousands and
thousands attend by eight in the morning. Life and light seem to
fly all around." On a second visit to Gloucester on this tour, he
wrote, "Blessed be God, I have got on this side the Welsh mountains.
Blessed be God, I have been on the other side. What a scene last
Sunday! What a cry for more of the bread of life! But I was quite
worn down."
In September following, he again visited the north of England,
writing from day to day in high spirits. September 28, he says,
"My body feels much fatigued in travelling; comforts in the soul
overbalance;" and from Leeds, October 3, he writes, "Field and
street preaching have rather bettered than hurt my bodily health."
Whitefield now returned to London, to sustain a heavy
disappointment. The negotiations relative to the college at Bethesda
were this winter brought to an issue. A memorial addressed to his
Majesty was put into the hands of the clerk of the Privy Council,
setting forth the great utility of a college in that place to the
southern provinces; and praying that a charter might be granted upon
the plan of the college in New Jersey. This memorial was transmitted
by the clerk of the Privy Council to the lord president, and by his
lordship referred to the Archbishop of Canterbury, to whom also a
draft of an intended charter was presented by the Earl of Dartmouth.
A correspondence followed all this between the archbishop and
Whitefield; the consequence of which was, that his grace gave the
draft of the college to the lord president, who promised he would
consider of it; and gave it as his opinion that "the head of the
college ought to be a member of the church of England; that this was
a qualification not to be dispensed with; and also, that the public
prayers should not be extempore ones, but the liturgy of the church,
or some other settled and established form." Whitefield replied
that these restrictions he could by no means agree to, because the
greatest part of the contributions for the orphan-house came from
Protestant dissenters; and because he had constantly declared that
the intended college should be founded upon a broad foundation, and
no other.
"This," said he, "I judged I was sufficiently warranted to do,
from the known, long-established, mild, and uncoercive genius of
the British government; also from your grace's moderation towards
Protestant dissenters; from the unconquerable attachment of the
Americans to toleration principles, as well as from the avowed
habitual feelings of my own heart. This being the case, and as
your grace, by your silence, seems to be like-minded with the lord
president; and as your grace's and his lordship's influence will
undoubtedly extend itself to others, I would beg leave, after
returning all due acknowledgments, to inform your grace that I
intend troubling your grace and his lordship no more about this so
long depending concern. As it hath pleased the great Head of the
church in some degree to renew my bodily strength, I propose now
to renew my feeble efforts, and to turn the charity into a more
generous, and consequently into a more useful channel. I have no
ambition to be looked upon as the founder of a college; but I would
fain act the part of an honest man, a disinterested minister of
Jesus Christ, and a true, catholic, moderate presbyter of the church
of England."
Thus ended Whitefield's labors to establish a college at Bethesda.
Berridge, and not a few others of his friends rather rejoiced in his
disappointment, as they thought there was some fear, uncontrolled as
the institution might hereafter be by men of established principles
of piety, that an unconverted ministry might be increased by its
means.