SEVENTH VISIT AND LABORS IN AMERICA--DEATH.
1769, 1770.
Whitefield now lost no time in proceeding to his beloved Bethesda,
which at present wore a very inviting aspect. Writing, January 11,
1770, he says, "Every thing exceeds my most sanguine expectations.
I am almost tempted to say, 'It is good for me to be here;' but all
must give way to gospel ranging--divine employ!
"'For this, let men revile my name,
I'll shun no cross, I'll fear no shame;
All hail, reproach!'"
In another letter he says, "The increase of this colony is almost
incredible. Two wings are added to the orphan-house, for the
accommodation of students; of which Governor Wright laid the
foundation, March 25, 1769."
An official paper of the Georgia legislature will show the esteem in
which Whitefield was held by that body.
"Commons House of Assembly, Monday, Jan. 29, 1770. Mr. Speaker
reported, that he, with the house, having waited on the Rev. Mr.
Whitefield, in consequence of his invitation, at the orphan-house
academy, heard him preach a very suitable and pious sermon on the
occasion; and with great pleasure observed the promising appearance
of improvement towards the good purposes intended, and the decency
and propriety of behavior of the several residents there; and
were sensibly affected, when they saw the happy success which has
attended Whitefield's indefatigable zeal for promoting the welfare
of the province in general, and the orphan-house in particular.
Ordered, that this report be printed in the Gazette.
"JOHN SIMPSON, Clerk."
In pursuance of this vote, we find in the Georgia Gazette as
follows: "Savannah, January 31, 1770. Last Sunday, his Excellency
the Governor, Council, and Assembly, having been invited by the
Rev. Mr. Whitefield, attended divine service in the chapel of the
orphan-house academy, where prayers were read by the Rev. Mr.
Ellington, and a very suitable sermon was preached by the Rev. Mr.
Whitefield, from Zechariah 4:10, 'For who hath despised the day
of small things?' to the great satisfaction of the auditory; in
which he took occasion to mention the many discouragements he met
with, well known to many there, in carrying on the institution for
upwards of thirty years past, and the present promising prospect of
its future and more extensive usefulness. After divine service, the
company were very politely entertained with a handsome and plentiful
dinner; and were greatly pleased to see the useful improvements
made in the house, the two additional wings of apartments for
students, one hundred and fifty feet each in length, and other
lesser buildings, in so much forwardness; and the whole executed
with taste, and in so masterly a manner; and being sensible of
the truly generous and disinterested benefactions derived to the
province through his means, they expressed their gratitude in the
most respectful terms."
On February 10, we find a letter written at Charleston by Whitefield
to his friend Mr. Robert Keen of London:
"Through infinite mercy, this leaves me enjoying a greater share of
bodily health than I have known for many years. I am now enabled
to preach almost every day, and my poor feeble labors seem not to
be in vain in the Lord. Blessed be God, all things are in great
forwardness at Bethesda. I have conversed with the governor in the
most explicit manner, more than once, concerning an act of Assembly
for the establishment of the intended orphan-house college. He most
readily consents. I have shown him a draft, which he much approves
of, and all will be finished at my return from the northward; in the
meanwhile the building will be carried on. As two ministers from New
Jersey and Rhode Island have been soliciting benefactions for their
respective colleges, no application of that nature can be made here;
but the Lord will provide.... Since my being in Charleston, I have
shown the draft to some persons of great eminence and influence.
They highly approve of it, and willingly consent to be some of the
wardens. Nearly twenty are to be of Georgia, and about six of this
place; one of Philadelphia, one of New York, one of Boston, three of
Edinburgh, two of Glasgow, and six of London. Those of Georgia and
South Carolina are to be qualified; the others to be only honorary
corresponding wardens."
Two days afterwards he again writes to the same friend, "In a few
months, I hope all will be completed. But what may these few months
produce? Lord Jesus, prepare us for whatsoever thou hast prepared
for us, and give peace in our time, for thine infinite mercy's sake.
You must expect another draft soon. God be praised for that saying,
'It is more blessed to give than to receive.' You would be pleased
to see with what attention the people hear the word preached. I have
been in Charleston near a fortnight--am to preach at a neighboring
country parish church next Sunday, and hope to see Georgia the week
following. Perhaps I may sail from thence to the northward, and
perhaps embark from thence. Lord Jesus, direct my goings in thy way.
I am blessed with bodily health, and am enabled to go on my way
rejoicing. Grace, grace!"
On returning to Bethesda, his heart seems to have been full of the
orphan-house and the college. For the direction of the latter, he
prepared a series of rules, and especially provided for the reading
of the old Puritan and Non-conformist writers of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries. Every letter he wrote contained references
to the improved state of his health, and the increased number of
preaching engagements which he was now able to fulfil. His spirits
seem to have been better, and his exultations in the divine kindness
more ardent than ever, while his correspondence indicates much
heavenly-mindedness, and lively desires for the highest happiness of
his friends.
As Whitefield had now been in the south more than five months, we
are not surprised to find that applications poured in from every
part of the north, entreating him to revisit the scenes of other
years. He left Bethesda and its affairs in the hands of persons
worthy of his confidence, of whom he said, "Such a set of helpers I
never met with."
After some hesitation as to where he should first go, he set out
for Philadelphia, where he arrived on the 6th of May. Writing three
days afterwards, he says, "The evening following, I was enabled to
preach to a large auditory, and have to repeat the delightful task
this evening. Pulpits, hearts, and affections, seem to be as open
and enlarged to me as ever." On the 24th he again wrote, "A wide
and effectual door, I trust, has been opened in this city. People
of all ranks flock as much as ever. Impressions are made on many,
and I trust they will abide. To all the Episcopal churches, as
well as most of the other places of worship, I have free access.
Notwithstanding I preach twice on the Lord's day, and three or four
times a week besides, yet I am rather better than I have been for
many years. This is the Lord's doing." On June 14, he says, "This
leaves me just returned from a one hundred and fifty miles' circuit,
in which, blessed be God, I have been enabled to preach every day.
So many new as well as old doors are open, and so many invitations
sent from various quarters, that I know not which way to turn
myself."
Of his last visit to New Jersey, Bishop White of Philadelphia, then
a young man of twenty-three, says, "When he was on his way from
Philadelphia to Boston, late in the summer, he had been prevailed on
to promise to cross from Bristol to Burlington, and to preach there.
I happened to be in the latter place, and staying in the house of a
relative, when it was announced that Mr. Whitefield was at a tavern
on the other side of the river. He was expected to be escorted by
my relative. I went with him; and we returned in a boat with Mr.
Whitefield and his company. He preached to the assembled citizens in
front of the court-house, and afterwards dined at the house of my
relative. During dinner, he was almost the only speaker, as was said
to be common; all present being disposed to listen."
A few days after this visit, we find him at New York, writing, June
30, "I have been here just a week. Have been enabled to preach
four times; and am to repeat the delightful task this evening.
Congregations are larger than ever. Blessed be God, I have been
strengthened to itinerate and preach daily for some time. Next
week I purpose to go to Albany; from thence, perhaps to the Oneida
Indians. There is to be a very large Indian congress; Mr. Kirkland
accompanies me. He is a truly Christian minister and missionary.
Every thing possible should be done to strengthen his hands and his
heart. Perhaps I may not see Georgia till Christmas. As yet, I keep
to my intended plan, in respect to my returning. Lord Jesus, direct
my goings in thy way. The heat begins now to be a little intense;
but through mercy I am enabled to bear up bravely. What a God do we
serve!"
On the twenty-ninth of July, he again writes from the same city, and
it is the _last entry_ in his memorandum: "Since my last, and during
this month, I have been above a five hundred miles' circuit; and
have been enabled to preach and travel through the heat every day.
The congregations have been very large, attentive, and affected;
particularly at Albany, Schenectady, Great Barrington, Norfolk,
Salisbury, Sharon, Smithfield, Poughkeepsie, Fishkill, New Rumbart,
New Windsor, and Peck's Hill. Last night I returned hither, and
hope to set out for Boston in two or three days. O what a new scene
of usefulness is opening in various parts of this world! All fresh
work where I have been. The divine influence has been as at first.
Invitations crowd upon me both from ministers and people, from many,
many quarters. A very peculiar providence led me very lately to a
place where a horse-stealer was executed. Thousands attended. The
poor criminal had sent me several letters, hearing I was in the
country. The sheriff allowed him to come and hear a sermon under
an adjacent tree. Solemn, solemn! After being by himself about an
hour, I walked half a mile with him to the gallows. His heart had
been softened before my first visit. He seemed full of solid, divine
consolation. An instructive walk! I went up with him into the cart.
He gave a short exhortation. I then stood upon the coffin--added,
I trust, a word in season--prayed--gave the blessing, and took
my leave. Effectual good, I hope, was done to the hearers and
spectators. Grace, grace!"
Our local histories seem to delight to honor Whitefield by the
introduction of his name whenever they have an opportunity.
In a notice of Sharon, in "Barber's Historical Collections of
Connecticut," the writer says, "In the latter part of July, 1770,
the Rev. George Whitefield passed through this town on a preaching
tour. There was considerable opposition to his being admitted into
the meeting-house, and arrangements had been made to hold the
service in an orchard still standing near the meeting-house, in case
he should be refused. Mr. Smith, [the Rev. Cotton Mather Smith, a
descendant of Cotton Mather,] invited him into the pulpit, though
strongly opposed by a considerable number of influential men. An
immense congregation from this and the neighboring towns filled the
meeting-house to overflowing. His text was, 'Marvel not that I said
unto you, Ye must be born again.' He proceeded to discourse on the
doctrine of the new birth with astonishing power and eloquence,
and the congregation were much moved by the power of the truth
and Spirit of God. The concluding words of his discourse were a
quotation, with a little variation, from the close of the fourth
chapter of Solomon's Song. 'Awake, O north wind, and come, thou
south; blow upon _this_ garden, that the spices thereof may flow
out. Let my Beloved come into _this_ garden, and eat his pleasant
fruits.' Many of the inhabitants of Sharon followed him for several
successive days, to hear the word of life from this devoted minister
of the cross."
We think it must have been in this journey that Whitefield's
ministry was blessed to the conversion of a young man who has left
his mark on the age. Benjamin Randall was born in New Castle,
New Hampshire, in 1749. In his twenty-second year he was brought
under the ministry of Whitefield, by which means he became deeply
convinced of sin, and was soon after converted to God. In 1776,
he united with a Calvinistic Baptist church; but before long
began to preach what he accounted more correct doctrines in his
native town, and was honored of God to effect a very powerful and
extensive revival. He is considered the founder of the denomination
of Freewill Baptists, which now comprises from eleven to twelve
hundred churches, more than a thousand pastors and licentiates, and
upwards of fifty thousand communicants. Mr. Randall was a man of
strong mental powers, and though he had not a classical education,
he was a good English scholar, aspired after general and religious
knowledge, had fine discriminating talent, and was remarkable for
the perseverance with which he pursued whatever he undertook. Above
all, like his spiritual father, he possessed what a living preacher
has well called, "a passion for souls."
From New York Whitefield proceeded to Boston, and short extracts
from two of his letters, and those _the last_ he wrote, will show
his position and his feelings:
September 17, he says to Mr. Wright, at Bethesda, "Fain would
I come by Captain Souder, from Philadelphia; but people are so
importunate for my stay in these parts, that I fear it will be
impracticable. 'My God will supply all my need according to the
riches of his grace in Christ Jesus.' Two or three evenings ago, I
was taken in the night with a violent flux, attended with retching
and shivering, so that I was obliged to return from Newbury; but
through infinite mercy I am restored, and to-morrow morning hope
to begin again. Never was the word received with greater eagerness
than now. All opposition seems, as it were, for a while to cease. I
find God's time is the best. The season is critical as to outward
circumstances; but when forts are given up, the Lord Jesus can
appoint salvation for walls and for bulwarks; he has promised to be
a wall of fire round about his people. This comforts me concerning
Bethesda, though we should have a Spanish war. You will be pleased
to hear, I never was carried through the summer's heat so well."
And finally, to his dear friend Mr. Keen of London, he wrote from
Portsmouth, New Hampshire, September 23, just one week before his
death, "By this time I thought to be moving southward. But never
was greater importunity used to detain me longer in these northern
parts. Poor New England is much to be pitied; Boston people most of
all. How grossly misrepresented! What a mercy that our Christian
charter cannot be dissolved! Blessed be God for an unchangeable
Jesus! You will see, by the many invitations, what a door is opened
for preaching the everlasting gospel. I was so ill on Friday that I
could not preach, though thousands were waiting to hear. Well, the
day of release will shortly come, but it does not seem yet; for by
riding sixty miles I am better, and hope to preach here to-morrow.
I trust my blessed Master will accept these poor efforts to serve
him. O for a warm heart! O to stand fast in the faith, to acquit
ourselves like men, and be strong! May this be the happy experience
of you and yours. I suppose your letters are gone for me in the
Anderson to Georgia. If spared so long, I expect to see them about
Christmas. Still pray and praise. I am so poorly, and so engaged
when able to preach, that this must apologize for not writing to
more friends: it is quite impracticable."
Whitefield's hope to "preach here to-morrow" was fully realized. In
the "Pennsylvania Journal and Weekly Advertiser," we find a letter
from Portsmouth, dated Sept. 28, 1770, which says, "Last Sunday
morning came to town from Boston, the Rev. George Whitefield, and
in the afternoon he preached at the Rev. Dr. Haven's meeting-house;
Monday morning he preached again at the same place, to a very large
and crowded audience. Tuesday morning a most numerous assembly met
at the Rev. Dr. Langdon's meeting-house, which it is said will hold
nearly six thousand people, and was well filled, even the aisles.
Evening he preached at the Rev. Mr. John Rodgers' meeting-house in
Kittery, and yesterday at the Rev. Mr. Lyman's in York, to which
place a number of ladies and gentlemen from town accompanied him.
This morning [Friday] he will preach at the Rev. Dr. Langdon's
meeting-house in this town."
We are now approaching the closing scene, and are invited to hear
Whitefield's last sermon. On his way to Newburyport, where he had
engaged to preach on Sunday morning, September 30, he was entreated
to preach at Exeter. This had been the scene of some of his former
triumphs. He was once preaching here, when a man was present who had
loaded his pocket with stones to throw at the preacher. He heard
his prayer with patience, but as soon as he had read his text, the
man took a stone out of his pocket and held it in his hand, waiting
for an opportunity to throw it. But God sent a word to his heart,
and the stone dropped from his hand. After the sermon, the poor
fellow went to Mr. Whitefield, and said, "Sir, I came here to-day
with the intention of breaking your head, but God has given me a
broken heart." This man was converted to God, and lived an ornament
to the gospel.
As though it had been felt by the public that this might be our
preacher's last sermon, inconvenient as Saturday noon must be for
the assembling of a congregation for worship, such a multitude was
collected that no house could contain them, and Whitefield, for
nearly two hours, discoursed to an attentive crowd in the open air.
Of this last sermon at Exeter, a gentleman who was present has given
a deeply interesting and affecting account. The relator was then in
his eighty-sixth year, but he retained a strong remembrance of the
most trivial incidents connected with that extraordinary man. He
says:
"It was usual for Mr. Whitefield to be attended by Mr. Smith,
who preached when he was unable on account of sudden attacks of
asthma. At the time referred to, after Mr. Smith had delivered a
short discourse, Mr. Whitefield seemed desirous of speaking; but
from the weak state in which he then was, it was thought almost
impossible. He rose from the seat in the pulpit, and stood erect,
and his appearance alone was a powerful sermon. The thinness of his
visage, the paleness of his countenance, the evident struggling of
the heavenly spark in a decayed body for utterance, were all deeply
interesting; the spirit was willing, but the flesh was dying. In
this situation he remained several minutes, unable to speak; he
then said, 'I will wait for the gracious assistance of God, for
he will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in his name.'
He then delivered perhaps one of his best sermons, for the light
generally burns most splendidly when about to expire. The subject
was a contrast of the present with the future; a part of this sermon
I read to a popular and learned clergyman in New York, who could
not refrain from weeping when I repeated the following: 'I go, I go
to rest prepared; my sun has arisen, and by aid from heaven, given
light to many; 't is now about to set for--no, it cannot be! 't is
to rise to the zenith of immortal glory; I have outlived many on
earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Many shall live when
this body is no more, but then--Oh, thought divine!--I shall be in a
world where time, age, pain, and sorrow are unknown. My body fails,
my spirit expands; how willingly would I live for ever to preach
Christ! but I die to be with him. How brief, comparatively brief,
has been my life, compared with the vast labors I see before me yet
to be accomplished; but if I leave now, while so few care about
heavenly things, the God of peace will surely visit you.' These,
and many other things he said, which, though simple, were rendered
important by circumstances; for death had let fly his arrow, and
the shaft was deeply enfixed when utterance was given to them: his
countenance, his tremulous voice, his debilitated frame, all gave
convincing evidence that the eye which saw him should shortly see
him no more for ever. When I visited the place where he is entombed,
Newburyport, I could not help saying, 'The memory of the just is
blessed,' Few are there like George Whitefield; however zealous,
they do not possess the masterly power, and those who do, too often
turn it to a purpose that does not glorify God."
We have already spoken of the Rev. Daniel Rodgers, a descendant of
the martyr of that name, and pastor of the second congregational
church at Exeter. It was this old friend of Whitefield who had
importuned him to preach at Exeter. The "_Almanack Journal_" of
this excellent man contains the following items of the activity of
our "eloquent orator" in his closing days: "September 10, 1770,
dear Mr. Whitefield preached here, A. M., ten o'clock. 11th, Mr.
Whitefield preached again in Mr. Parsons' meeting-house. 12th, I
rode over to Rowley, Mr. Whitefield preached there. 14th, a storm
of rain. 15th, the rain continues. Mr. Whitefield went to Boston,
not well. 25th, I heard dear Mr. Whitefield preach. 26th, he went to
Kittery, and preached for brother John; P. M. I rode to York. 27th,
Mr. Whitefield preached at York; P. M. we returned to Portsmouth.
28th, Mr. Whitefield preached his farewell sermon; I returned home.
29th, dear Mr. Whitefield preached for me the last sermon he ever
preached."
Mr. Smith's account of the closing scene will not be considered too
minute in its details. "Before he commenced his journey of fifteen
miles from Portsmouth to Exeter, Mr. Clarkson, senior, observing
him more uneasy than usual, said to him, 'Sir, you are more fit to
go to bed than to preach.' Whitefield's reply was, 'True, sir;' but
turning aside, he clasped his hands together, and looking up, said,
'Lord Jesus, I am weary _in_ thy work, but not _of_ thy work. If I
have not yet finished my course, let me go and speak for thee once
more in the fields, seal thy truth, and come home and die.' His last
sermon was from 2 Cor. 13:5, 'Examine yourselves, whether ye be in
the faith. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in
you, except ye be reprobates?' He dined at Captain Gillman's. After
dinner, Mr. Whitefield and Mr. Parsons rode to Newbury. I did not
get there till two hours after them. I found them at supper. I asked
Mr. Whitefield how he felt after his journey. He said he was tired,
therefore he supped early, and went to bed. He ate a very little
supper, talked but little, asked Mr. Parsons to discharge the table,
and perform family duty, and then retired up stairs."
The Rev. Dr. Hallock tells us, that, in 1822, he visited Newburyport
and the tomb of Whitefield. He was then told by persons whom he
considered reliable, that when Whitefield was retiring to his
chamber on this last evening of his life, many were so desirous to
see and hear him, that he stood on the stairs with a lamp in his
hand, and there gave them a tender spiritual address.
We resume Mr. Smith's account: "He said he would sit and read till I
came to him, which I did as soon as possible; and found him reading
the Bible, with Dr. Watts' Psalms lying open before him. He asked
me for some water-gruel, and took about half his usual quantity; and
kneeling down by his bedside, closed the evening with prayer. After
a little conversation, he went to rest, and slept till two in the
morning, when he awoke, and asked for a little cider; he drank about
a wine-glass full. I asked him how he felt, for he seemed to pant
for breath. He said to me, 'My asthma is coming on again; I must
have two or three days' rest. Two or three days' riding, without
preaching, would set me up again.' Soon afterwards, he asked me to
put the window up a little higher, though it was half up all night.
'For,' said he, 'I cannot breathe; but I hope I shall be better by
and by: a good pulpit sweat to-day may give me relief; I shall be
better after preaching.' I said to him, 'I wish you would not preach
so often.' He replied, 'I had rather wear out than rust out.' I then
told him, I was afraid he took cold in preaching yesterday. He said
he believed he had; and then sat up in bed, and prayed that God
would be pleased to bless his preaching where he had been, and also
bless his preaching that day, that more souls might be brought to
Christ. He prayed for direction whether he should winter in Boston,
or hasten to the southward; and he prayed for a blessing on his
Bethesda college, and his dear family there, for the Tabernacle and
Chapel congregations, and all connections on the other side of the
water; and then he laid himself down to sleep again.
"This was near three o'clock. At a quarter past four he awoke,
and said, 'My asthma, my asthma is coming on; I wish I had not
given out word to preach at Haverhill on Monday; I don't think I
shall be able; but I shall see what to-day will bring forth. If I
am no better to-morrow, I will take two or three days' ride!' He
then desired me to warm him a little gruel; and in breaking the
fire-wood, I waked Mr. Parsons, who thinking I knocked for him, rose
and came in. He went to Mr. Whitefield's bedside, and asked him
how he felt. He answered, 'I am almost suffocated. I can scarcely
breathe, my asthma quite chokes me.' I was then not a little
surprised to hear how quickly, and with what difficulty he drew his
breath. He got out of bed, and went to the open window for air. This
was exactly at five o'clock. I went to him, and for about the space
of five minutes saw no danger, only that he had a great difficulty
in breathing, as I had often seen before. Soon afterwards, he turned
himself to me, and said, '_I am dying_.' I said, 'I hope not, sir.'
He ran to the other window, panting for breath, but could get no
relief. It was agreed that I should go for Dr. Sawyer; and on my
coming back, I saw death on his face; and he again said, '_I am
dying_.' His eyes were fixed, his underlip drawing inward every time
he drew breath. I persuaded him to sit down in the chair, and have
his cloak on; he consented by a sign, but could not speak. I then
offered him a glass of warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed
as if it would have stopped his breath entirely. He went towards
the window, and we offered him some warm wine, with lavender drops,
which he refused.
"In a little time he brought up a considerable quantity of phlegm.
I then began to have some small hopes. Mr. Parsons said he thought
Mr. Whitefield breathed more freely than he did, and would recover.
I said, 'No, sir, he is certainly dying.' I was continually employed
in taking the phlegm out of his mouth with a handkerchief, and
bathing his temples with drops, rubbing his wrists, etc., to give
him relief, if possible, but all in vain; his hands and feet were
as cold as clay. When the doctor came in, and saw him in the chair
leaning upon my breast, he felt his pulse, and said, 'He is a dead
man.' Mr. Parsons said, 'I do not believe it; you must do something,
doctor.' He said, 'I cannot; he is now near his last breath.' And
so indeed it was; for he fetched but one gasp, and stretched out
his feet, and breathed no more. This was exactly at six o'clock. We
continued rubbing his legs, hands, and feet, with warm cloths, and
bathed him with spirits for some time, but all in vain. I then put
him into a warm bed, the doctor standing by, and often raised him
upright, continued rubbing him and putting spirits to his nose for
an hour, till all hopes were gone. The people came in crowds to see
him."
Whitefield seems to have had somewhat of a presentiment that
his death would be unattended with any remarkable expression of
spiritual enjoyment. In his last preceding visit to this country,
he had spent a day or two under the roof of the Rev. Dr. Finley,
then president of the college at Princeton, New Jersey. One day Dr.
Finley said at the dinner-table, "Mr. Whitefield, I hope it will be
very long before you will be called home; but when that event shall
arrive, I shall be glad to hear the noble testimony you will bear
for God." Whitefield replied, "You would be disappointed, doctor; I
shall die silent. It has pleased God to enable me to bear so many
testimonies for him during my life, that he will require none from
me when I die. No, no. It is your dumb Christians, who have walked
in fear and darkness, and thereby been unable to bear a testimony
for God during their lives, that he compels to speak out for him on
their death-beds."
We resume Mr. Smith's narrative: "The Rev. Mr. Parsons, at whose
house my dear master died, sent for Captain Fetcomb, and Mr.
Boadman, and others of his elders and deacons, and they took the
whole of the burial upon themselves, prepared the vault, and sent
and invited the bearers. Many ministers of all persuasions came to
the house of the Rev. Mr. Parsons, where several of them gave a very
particular account of their first awakenings under his ministry
several years ago, and also of many in their congregations that,
to their knowledge, under God, owed their conversion to his coming
among them, often referring to the blessed seasons they had enjoyed
under his preaching; and all said, that this last visit was attended
with more power than any other, and that all opposition fell
before him. Then one and another would pity and pray for his dear
Tabernacle and Chapel congregations, and it was truly affecting to
hear them bemoan America and England's loss. Thus they continued for
two hours, conversing about his great usefulness, and praying that
God would scatter his gifts, and drop his mantle among them."
Dr. Gillies says, "Early next morning, Mr. Sherburn of Portsmouth
sent Mr. Clarkson and Dr. Haven with a message to Mr. Parsons,
desiring that Mr. Whitefield's remains might be buried in his own
new tomb, at his own expense; and in the evening several gentlemen
from Boston came to Mr. Parsons, desiring the body might be carried
there. But as Mr. Whitefield had repeatedly desired to be buried
before Mr. Parsons' pulpit, if he died at Newburyport, Mr. Parsons
thought himself obliged to deny both these requests."
Mr. Parsons, in a note to his funeral sermon, says, "At one o'clock
all the bells in the town were tolled for half an hour, and all the
vessels in the harbor gave their proper signals of mourning. At two
o'clock the bells tolled a second time. At three the bells called
to attend the funeral. The Rev. Dr. Haven of Portsmouth, and the
Rev. Messrs. Rodgers of Exeter, Jewet and Chandler of Rowley, Moses
Parsons of Newbury, and Bass of Newburyport, were pall-bearers.
Mr. Parsons and his family, with many other respectable persons,
followed the corpse in mourning."
"The procession," says Mr. Smith, "was only one mile, and then the
corpse was carried into the Presbyterian church, and placed at the
foot of the pulpit, close to the vault; the Rev. Daniel Rodgers made
a very affecting prayer, and openly declared, that, under God, he
owed his conversion to that dear man of God whose precious remains
now lay before them. Then he cried out, 'O my father, my father!'
then stopped and wept as though his heart would break; the people
weeping all through the place. Then he recovered, and finished his
prayer, and sat down and wept. Then one of the deacons gave out the
hymn,
"'Why do we mourn departing friends?'
some of the people weeping, some singing, and so on alternately.
The Rev. Mr. Jewet preached a funeral discourse; and made an
affectionate address to his brethren, to lay to heart the death of
that useful man of God, begging that he and they might be upon their
watchtower, and endeavor to follow his blessed example. The corpse
was then put into the vault, and all concluded with a short prayer,
and dismission of the people, who went weeping through the streets
to their respective places of abode."
The Rev. Mr. Rodgers, from whose "Almanack Journal" we have quoted,
records that the vast assembly at the funeral consisted of "four,
since thought five thousand people," and adds, Oct. 7, "I preached
from those words in the first Philippians, 'Having a desire to
depart and be with Christ,' etc. I spoke extempore, somewhat
largely, of dear Mr. Whitefield's character."
The late venerable Mr. Bartlet of Newburyport, some years ago,
erected a monument to the memory of Whitefield in the church beneath
which his remains are interred. The cenotaph was executed by Mr.
Struthers of Philadelphia, after a design of Strickland, and the
inscription which follows was written by the late Rev. Dr. Ebenezer
Porter, of the Theological seminary at Andover.
THIS CENOTAPH
is ERECTED, WITH AFFECTIONATE VENERATION,
To the Memory
OF
THE REV. GEORGE WHITEFIELD,
BORN AT GLOUCESTER, ENGLAND, DECEMBER 16, 1714;
EDUCATED AT OXFORD UNIVERSITY; ORDAINED 1736.
IN A MINISTRY OF THIRTY-FOUR YEARS,
HE CROSSED THE ATLANTIC THIRTEEN TIMES,
AND PREACHED MORE THAN EIGHTEEN THOUSAND SERMONS.
AS A SOLDIER OF THE CROSS, HUMBLE, DEVOUT, ARDENT,
HE PUT ON THE WHOLE ARMOR OF GOD:
PREFERRING THE HONOR OF CHRIST TO HIS OWN INTEREST, REPOSE,
REPUTATION, AND LIFE.
AS A CHRISTIAN ORATOR, HIS DEEP PIETY, DISINTERESTED ZEAL,
AND VIVID IMAGINATION,
GAVE UNEXAMPLED ENERGY TO HIS LOOK, UTTERANCE, AND ACTION.
BOLD, FERVENT, PUNGENT, AND POPULAR IN HIS ELOQUENCE,
NO OTHER UNINSPIRED MAN EVER PREACHED TO SO LARGE ASSEMBLIES,
OR ENFORCED THE SIMPLE TRUTHS OF THE GOSPEL BY MOTIVES
SO PERSUASIVE AND AWFUL, AND WITH AN INFLUENCE SO POWERFUL,
ON THE HEARTS OF HIS HEARERS.
HE DIED OF ASTHMA, SEPTEMBER 30, 1770.
SUDDENLY EXCHANGING HIS LIFE OF UNPARALLELED LABORS
FOR HIS ETERNAL REST.
[Illustration: OLD SOUTH CHURCH, BOSTON.]
[Illustration: MONUMENT]
[Illustration: OLD SOUTH, AT NEWBURYPORT]