From His Opening the New Tabernacle in Moorfields to His Preaching at the Chapel in Tottenham Court Road, 1756

Whitefield, having preached at his Tabernacle a few days with his accustomed earnestness and success, to crowded auditories, in the end of June, set out for Scotland.

In his progress, he enjoyed very pleasant opportunities at Oulney. He preached likewise at Leicester, Nottingham, and Sheffield, Multitudes every where were flocking like doves to to their window:;, to receive the word of eternal life.

In his way to Leeds, he preached at Rotherham* and

* Rotherham, and its environs, had, for a considerable time, been ranked byserious people, amon those parts of Yorkshire, -w-hifh were least inclined to favor the spread of evan^elical religion; and when Whitefield attempted to disseminate divine knowledge in that neighborhood, his person and message was treated with contempt. The propagation of malicious falsehoods was encouraged, with a design to counteract the good effects of his ministry. Mr. Thrope, afterwards pastor of the Independent church at Masborough, near Rotherham, ranged under the standard of his most virulent opposers; and not content with personal insult, added private ridicule to public interruption. Public houi;es became theatres, where the fate of religious opinions was to be determined.

It was at one of these convivial resorts, that Mr. Thrope and three of his associates, to enliven the company, undertook to mimic the preacher. The proposition was highly gratifying to all parties present, and a wager agreed upon, to inspire each individual with a desire of excelling in this impious attempt. That their jovial auditors might adjudge the prize to the most adroit performer, it was concluded that each should open the Bible, and hold forth from the first text that should present itself to his eye. Accordingly three in their turn mounted the table, and entertained their wicked companions, at the expense of every thing sacred. When they had exhausted their little stock of buffoonery, it devolved on Mr. Thrope to close this very irreverent scene. Much elated, and confident of success, he exclaimed as he Euscended the table, “I shall beat you all!” But O! the stupendous depths of divine mercy! who would have conceived that a gracious Providence should have presided over such an assembly, and that this should be the time of heavenly love to one of the most outrageous mockers!

Mr. Thrope, when the Bible was handed to him, had not the slightest preconception, what part of the scripture he should make the subject of his banter. However, by the guidance of an unerring Providence, it opened at that remarkable passage, Luke xiii. 3. “Except ye repent ye shall all likewise perish.” No sooner had he uttered the words, than his mind was affected in a very extraordinary manner. The sharpest pangs of conviction now seized him, and conscience denounced tremendous vengeance upon his soul. In a moment he was favored with a clear view of his subject, and divided his discourse more like a divine, M’ho had been accustomed to speak on portions of scripture, than like one who never so much as thought on religious topics, except for the purpose of ridicule! He found no deficiency of matter, no want of utterance, and he has frequently declared, “If ever I preached in my. life by the assistance of the Spirit of Gud, it was at that time.” The impression that the subject made upon his mind had such an effect upon his manner, that the most ignorant and profane could not but perceive that what he had spoken was with the greatest sincerity.

The unexpected solemnity and pertinency of his ‘address, instead of enter-Wakefield; at the former place, he had met with such disturbance from the mob, that he almost resolved to preach there no more. But he was now convinced of the rashness of such a step; for some who had been bitter persecutors, now gladly received him within their doors: acknowledging that God had made him instrumental in their conversion.

At Leeds he had great success; at York he was twice disturbed, and twice he preached in peace, and with much power. At Newcastle and Sunderland, great multitudes were deeply impressed. At five in the morning the great room was filled, and on the Lord’s day the congregation without was immense. In short, so promising was the appearance, that he was inclined to wish he had not engaged to go to Scotland, and resolved to return as soon as possible.

Having spent a few days at Edinburgh and Glasgow, in his accustomed manner, with much acceptance, he returned to England, the 7th day of August.* He found his continual extaining the company, first spread a visible depression, and afterwards a sullen gloom, upon every countenance. This sudden change in the complexion of his associates did not a little conduce to increase the convictions of his own bosom. No individual appeared disposed to interrupt him; but, on the contrary, their attention was deeply engaged with the poinledness of his remarks; yea, many of his sentences, as he has often related, made, to his apprehension, his own hair stand erect!

When he had left the table not a syllable was uttered concerning the wager; but a profound silence pervaded the company. Mr. Thrope immediately withdrew, without taking the least notice of any person present; and returned home, with very painful reflections, and the deepest distress imaginable. Happily for him, this was his last bacchanalian revel! His impressions were manifestly genuine, and from that period, the connection between him and his former companions was entirely dissolved. Then by a sovereign, and almost unexampled act of divine grace, in a place where, and at a time when, it was least expected, “the prey was taken from the mighty, and the lawful captive delivered.”

Hell mourns sincere, as for an only son!

A captive lost — and heaven the prize has won!

The people whom he had before so frequently reviled, became now the objects of nis delight. He sought their company with avidity: and soon after, was joined to the Methodist society. His habitual seriousness, and uniform morality, soon endeared him to his new connections, and the specimens he gave of his talents, in his occasional exercises in private, flattered their hopes, that he would soon be called forth to public notice. In these expectations they were not disappointed; for he was quickly sent out by Mr. Wesley to “preach the faith which he once labored to destroy.”

About two years after he was stationed for a season at Rotherham. Here his ideas became more enlarged in the doctrines of grace; which procured his dismission from the society. He was chosen pastor of the church at Masborough, where he exercised the ministerial function, thirteen years. On November 8, 1776, about the forty-sixth year of his age, he gently resigned his breath, without a struggle; and doubtless went triumphantly to the perfect worship and happiness of heaven!

* After he had been in Glasgow, the following paragraph appeared in the Newcastle Journal, August 11, 1753.” By a letter from Edinburgh, we are informed, that on the 2a instant, Mr. Whitefield, the itinerant, being at Glasertions exceeding his strength. Yet he went forward, preaching twice or thrice a day, and once five times, often wishing to be with his divine Master in glory.

On his return to England, he went from Newcastle to Stockton, Osmotherly, York, and Leeds. He had a very refreshing season while assisting to administer the sacrament at Haworth, to a great number of communicants; and rode as far as Boston, Manchester, and Stockport. The eagerness of the people was wonderful: he preached in every town through which he passed, and came to London the latter end of September, having traveled about twelve hundred miles, and preached one HUNDRED and EIGHTY times.

His stay in London was but short, for in the month of October he made a journey to Staffordshire. A scene of extensive usefulness seemed to open to him during his stay at Oulney; at which place, and many adjacent parts, he preached in one week. Also at Birmingham, and all around, the multitudes of hearers were very attentive. At a place not far from Dudley, called Guarnell, he was told of a whole company that were awakened by reading his sermons. He had the pleasure of meeting with others who had been awakened years ago; and heard of a notorious persecutor and drunkard, who had

gow, and preaching to an audience, near the play-house lately built, inflamed the mob so much against it, that they ran directly from before him, and pulled it down to ground. Several of the rioters have been since taken up and committed to gaol.”

It would not have been worth while to transcribe this, were it not another specimen of the unaccountable liberties taken by some of the opposers of Whitefield, in telling their stories concerning him. The fact was this. Whitefield being informed that the players had lately come to Glasgow, and had met with some encouragement, took occasion in his sermon to preach against play-houses, and to represent their pernicious influence on religion and morality, especially in a populous, commercial city, and the seat of a university. But there was no riot. It was the proprietor of the play-house, at that time a slight temporary booth, supported by the old walls of the bishop’s castle, who ordered his workmen to take it down.

Mr. Whitefield, in a letter to the Countess of Huntingdon, dated August 13, 1753, says, “At Glasgow, the man who owned the play-house was made so uneasy by the word preached, that he took down the roof himself. For this Satan owes me a grudge, and therefore it is put in the paper, thai a mob was raised. But there was not the least appearance of any such thing. Our weapons are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of Satan’s strong holds.”

In another letter, dated August 23, 1753, to the right honorable Lady Frances Shirley, he says, “I have been of late, generally enabled to preach thrice a day, and in all appearance the word never was attended with more success. Satan rages and belies me, about the taking down the Glasgow play-houses; but I hope my letter, lately published in the Newcastle Journal, will set all things right. Thanks be to God, without the assistance of mobs and riots, which my soul abhors, the christian’s weapons, through Divine assistance, are mighty to the pulling down of Satan’s strong holds. Blessed be his holy name for any begun conquests there; surely his name i wonderful that hath done it.”

lpeen powerfully convinced. It was, as he expresses it, his delight to break up new ground; and he sometimes found, to his comfort, that his way was prepared by the divine blessing on his writings, particularly at Alpenham in CJheshire, and at Liverpool; where a person who had received benefit by reading his sermons, met him at the landing, and took him to his house. Here all was quiet, as well as at Chester, where he preached four times, having several of the established clergy in his congregations. But at Wrexham and Nantwich, where a meeting house had lately been pulled down, he was assaulted by the mob, and compelled to remove with his congregation to a place a little out of town.

Thus he continued traveling about, now and then returning to spend a few days in London. November 16, he thus writes from Gloucester: “After Lord’s-day, I am bound from Bristol and Plymouth, and hope to get into my winter quarters, some time before Christmas. Glad should I be to travel for Jesus all the year round; it is more to me than my necessary food.”

On Sunday, November 25, he opened the new Tabernacle at Bristol, which he says, “was very large, but not half large enough; for if the place could contain them, nearly as many would attend as in London.” He also preached twice in his brother’s great house, to the people of quality.

Though it was now so late in the year, he went to Somersetshire, and preached several times, in the open air. In the evening, “my hands and body,” says he, “were pierced with cold; but what are outward things, when the soul is warmed by the love of God! The stars shone exceeding bright; and, by an eye of faith, I saw Him who calleth them all by their names. My soul was filled with holy ambition, and I longed to be one of those, who shall shine as the stars for ever and ever.”

John Wesley, yet his personal friend, had at this time, by his diligence and zeal, brought his life into great danger. Notwithstanding their theological differences, Whitefield still retained the warm personal affection for him, which is imphed in the following extract from one of his letters. He thus writes: “Bristol, December 3, 1753. I am now hastening to London, to pay my last respects to my dying friend. The physician thinks his disease is galloping consumption. I pity the church — I pity myself — but not him. Poor Mr. Charles will now have double work: but we can do all things through Christ strengthening us.” His letters to both the brothers on this occasion, are very affectionate and sympathizing. In his letter to Charles Wesley, December 3, 1753, he says,” I cannot help sending after you a few sympathizing lines. The

Lord help and support you! May a double spirit of the ascending Elijah, descend and rest on the surviving Elisha! Now is the time to prove the strength of Jesus yours. A wife, a friend, and brother ill together. Well! this is our comfort, all things shall work together for good to those that love God. Glad should I be to reach heaven first: but faith and patience hold out a little longer. Yet a little while, and we shall be all together with our common Lord. I commend you to his everlasting love, and am, my dear friend, with much sympathy, yours, &c.” To John Wesley he writes thus: — “If seeing you so weak when leaving London, distressed me, the news and prospect of your approaching dissolution hath quite weighed me down, I pity myself, and the church, but not you. A radiant throne awaits you, and ere long you will enter into your Master’s joy. Yonder he stands with a massy crown, ready to put it on your head, amidst an admiring throng of saints and angels. But I, poor I, that have been waiting for my dissolution these nineteen years, must be left behind to grovel here below. Well, this is my comfort, it cannot be long ere the chariots will be sent even for worthless me. If prayers can detain them, even you, reverend and very dear sir, shall not leave us yet: but if the decree is gone forth, that you must now fall asleep in Jesus, may he kiss your soul away, and give you to die in the embraces of triumphant love. If in the land of the living, I hope to pay my last respects to you next week. If not, reverend and dear sir, farewell. My heart is too big, tears trickle down too fast, and I fear you are to weak for me to enlarge. May underneath you be Christ’s everlasting arms! I commend you to his never failing mercy, and am, very dear sir, your most affectionate, sympathizing, and afflicted younger brother in the gospel of our common Lord.” Shortly after this he went to London, and soon had the pleasure of seeing Wesley recover.

December 26, he received a visit from Messrs. Tennent and Da vies, from America, who came to EIngland to raise contributions for the college of New Jersey. And being- commissioned to apply for a general collection in Scotland, Whitefield gave them recommendatory letters, and heartily endeavored to further their design. He spent the winter of 1753 in London, longing for a spring campaign, as he expressed it, that he might begm to do somethino’ for his divine Master.

March 7, 1754, having got about twenty poor children under his care, he embarked for America, but put in at Lisbon, where he stayed from the 20th of March, to the 13th of April.

From Lisbon he writes: —” This leaves me an old inhabitant of Lisbon. We have now been here almost a week, and

I suppose shall stay a fortnight longer, A reputable mcrcliant has received me into his house, and every day shows me the ecclesiastical curiosities of the country. O my dear friend, bless the Lord of all lords for causing your lot to be cast into such a fair ground as England, and giving you such a goodly heritage. It is impossible to be sufficiently thankful for civil and religious liberty, for simplicity of worship, and powerful preaching of the word of God. O for simplicity of manners, and a correspondent behavior! The air agrees with my poor constitution extremely well. Through divine assistance, I hope what I see will also much improve my better part, and help to qualify me better for preaching the everlasting gospel.” Again. “Never did civil and religious liberty appear to me in so arniahle a light as now. What a spirit must Martin Luther, and the first reformers have been endued with, that dared to appear as they did for God! Lord hasten that blessed time, when others, excited by the same spirit, shall perform like wonders. Oh happy England! Oh happy Methodists, who are Methodists indeed! And all 1 account such, who being dead to sects and parties, aim at nothing else but as holy a method of living too, and dying in the blessed Jesus.” Again.” This leaves me pretty well satisfied, not to say surfeited, with the ecclesiastical curiosities of Lisbon. This day fortnight we arrived; and the country being in want of rain, and it being Lent season, we have been favored with frequent processions, and several extraordinary pieces of scenery. Alas! to what lengths will superstition run! And how expensive is the pageantry of a false religion! What engaged my attention most, was the number of crucifixes, and little images of the virgin Mary, and of other real or reputed saints, which were placed almost in every street, or fixed against the walls of the houses, almost at every turning, with lamps hanging before them. To these, I observed the people bow as they passed along; and near some of them stood several little companies, singing with great earnestness. This seemed to me very odd, and gave me an idea of what further ecclesiastical curiosities would probably fall in my way, if I should be detained here any time. These expectations were quickly raised; for, not long after my arrival at my lodgings, where I was received and entertained with great gentility, hospitality, and friendliness, upon looking out of the window, I saw a company of priests and friars bearing lighted wax tapers, and attended by various sorts of people, some of whom had bags and baskets of victuals in their hands, and others carried provisions upon their shoulders on sticks between two. After these, followed a mixed multitude, singing with a very audible voice, and addressing the virgin Maiy in

150 MEMOIRS OF WniTEFrELD.

their usual strain, ‘Ora pro noJAs.^ In this manner they proceeded to the prison, where all waus deposited for the use of the poor persons confined therein. Rut a far more pompous procession of the hi<e nature, as a by-stander informed me, passed by a few days before. In this there were nearly three hundred Franciscan friars, many of whom, besides porters hired for the purpose, were loaded with a variety of food; and those who bore no burdens, carried either ladles or spoons in their hands. Sights of this nature being quite a novelty to me, I was fond of attending as many of them as 1 could. Two things concurred to make them more frequent at this juncture — the season of Lent, and excessive drought, which threatened the total destruction of the fruits of the earth. For the averting so great a judgment, and for the imploring the much longed for blessing of rain, daily processions had been made from one convent or another, for a considerable time. One of these I saw: it was looked upon as a pretty grand one, being made up of the Carmelite friars, the parish priests, and a great number of what they call the brothers of the order, who walked two by two in divers habits, holding a long and very large lighted wax taper in their hands. Amidst these was carried, upon eight or ten men’s shoulders, a tall image of the virgin Mary, in a kind of man’s attire; for I think she had a very fine white wig on her head, a dress she often appears in, and was much adorned with jewels and glittering stones. At some distance from the lady, under a large canopj’- of state, and supported likewise by six or eight persons, came a priest, holding in his hand some noted relic. After him, followed several thousands of people joining with the friars in singing, ^Eanden cajitilefian, Ora pro nobis,’ all the way. Still rain was denied, and still processions were continued. At length the clouds began to gather, and the mercury in the barometer fell very much. There was brought out a wooden image, which they say never failed. It was the figure of our blessed Lord, clothed with purple robes, and crowned with thorns. I think they called him the lord op THE PASSION. Upon his shoulders he bore a large cross, under the weight of which he was represented as stooping, till his body bent almost double. He was brought from Le Grass Convent in very great pomp, and placed in a large cathedral church. Being on board at that time, I lost this sight; but the subsequent evening I beheld the seigneur fixed on an eminence in a large cathedral church, near the altar, surrounded with wax tapers of a prodigious size. He was attended by many noblemen, and thousands of spectators of all ranks and stations, who crowded from every quarter, and in their turns, were admitted by the guards to come within the rails, and perform their devotions. This they expressed by kneehng, and kissing the seiuneuk’s heel, by putting their left and right eye to it, and then touching it with their beads, which a gentleman in waiting received from them, and then returned again. This scene was repeated for three days successively; and during all this time, the church and space before it, was so thronged with carriages and people, that there was scarcely any passing. The music on this occasion was extremely soft, and the church was illuminated in a very striking manner. The third day in the forenoon it rained, and soon after the seigneur was conducted home in a great splendor, and with much greater rejoicing, than when he was brought forth. As my situation was very commodious, I saw the whole; and afterwards went and heard part of the sermon, which was delivered before the seigneur, in the church to which he belonged. The preacher was full of action; and in some part of his discourse, as one who

understood Portuguese informed me, pointing to the image, he said, ‘Now he is at rest. He went out in justice, but is returned in mercy.’ And toward the conclusion he called upon the people to join with him in an extempore prayer. This they did with great fervency, which was expressed not only by repeating it aloud, but by beating their breasts, and clapping their cheeks, and weeping heartily. To complete the solemnity, immediately after the delivery of the blessing, all on a sudden, from the place near which the image stood, there was heard a most soft and soothing symphony of music, which being ended, the assembly broke up, and I returned to my lodgings; not a little affected, to see so many thousands led away from the simplicity of the gospel, by such a mixture of human artifice and blind superstition, of which indeed I could have formed no idea, had I not been an eye-witness. This concern was still increased, by what I heard from some of my fellow passengers, who informed me that about eleven, one night, after 1 came on board, they not only heard a friar preaching most fervently before the seigneur, but also saw several companies of penitents brought in, lashing and whipping themselves severely. How little is this unlike to those who cut themselves with knives and lancets, and cried out from morning to night ‘O Baal, hear us.’ Methinks I hear you say, ‘And had I been present. I should have

wished for the spirit of an Elijah to’ Hush, my friend, I

am content to guess at the rest till we meet. In the meanwhile, let us comfort ourselves with this thought, that there is a season approaching, when the Lord God of Elijah will himself come, and destroy this and every other species of antichrist, by the breath of his mouth, and the brightness of his appearing, even by the all conquering manifestations of his eternal spirit. W hether as men, christians, or Protestants, we have not more and more reason to pray night and day, for the hastening on of that glorious and long wished for period, you will be better able to judge, when I send you, as I purpose to do, if I have time, a further account of a Lent procession or two, of which I was also a spectator.

The following account of the procession of St. Francis, Mr. Whitefield gives, in a letter, dated April 3, 1754, to the same friend.

“My dear friend,” Though some other business demands my attention, yet I must not forget the promise made you of a further account of the processions I saw at Lisbon. Some of those already mentioned, were extraordinary, by reason of the great drought; but that which is to be the subject of my present letter, was an annual one; it being the custom at Lisbon to exhibit some procession or another every Friday in Lent. An intelligent Protestant, who stood near me, was so good as to be my interpreter of the dumb show as it passed along. I say dimih show: for for you must know it was chiefly made up of waxen or wooden images, carried on men’s shoulders through the streets, intending to represent the life and death of St. P^rancis, the founder of one of their religious orders. They were brought out from the Franciscan convent, and were preceded by three persons in scarlet habits, with baskets in their hands, in which they received the alms of the spectators, for the benefit of the poor prisoners. After these, came two little boys in parti- colored clothes, with wings fixed on their shoulders, in imitation of little angels. Then appeared the figure of St. Francis, very gay and beau like, as he used to be before his conversion. In the next, he was introduced under conviction, and consequently stripped of his finery. Soon after this, was exhibited an image of our blessed Lord himself, in a purple gown, with long black hair, with St. Francis lying before him, to receive his immediate orders. Then came the virgin mother, [horresco ref evens) with Christ her son at her left hand, and St. Francis making obeisance to both. Here, if I remember aright, he made ids first appearance in his frair’s habit, with his hair cut short, but not as yet shaved on the crown of his head. After a little space, followed a mitred cardinal, gaudily attired, and before him lay St. Francis, almost prostrate, in order to be confirmed in his office. Soon after this, he appears quite metamorphosed into a monk, his crown shorn, his habit black, and his loins girt with a knotted cord. Here he prays to our Savior, hanging on a cross, that the marks of the wounds in his hands, feet and side, might be impressed on the same parts of his body. TFie prayer is <^anted; blood comes from the hands, feet, and sides; and the saint, with great devotion, receives the impressions. This was represented by red waxen strings, reaching from those parts of the image, to the corresponding parts of St. Francis’ body. Upon this lie begins to do wonders; and therefore, in a little while, he is carried along, as holding up a house, which was just falling. This miracle, they say, was performed, if my information be true, at Madrid, but the particulars of its history I have forgotten. At length, the father died, and is brousfht forth lying in his grave. But lo! the briers and nettles under which he lay, are turned into fine fragrant flowers. After this, he is borne along upon a bier, covered with a silver pall, and four friars lamenting over him. He then appears for the last time, but with an increase of power; for he was represented as drawing tormented people out of purgatory with his knotted cord, which, as you may well imagine, the poor souls caught at, and took hold of very eagerly. At length, came a gorgeous friar, under a splendid canopy, bearing in his hand a piece of the holy cross. After him followed two more little winged boys, and then a long train of fat and well favored Franciscans, with their Calceis Fcnestratls, as Erasmus calls them; and so the procession ended. Methinks I hear you say, ‘It is full time;’ and so say I; for as the sight itself disgusted me, so 1 am persuaded the bare narration of it, though ever so short, cannot be very pleasant to one who I know

abhors every thing that savors of superstition and idolatry. We will, therefore, take our leave of St. Francis, whose procession was in the day time: but I must tell you, it is only to inform you of another of a much more awful and shocking nature, which I saw afterwards in the night. About ten o’clock, being deeply engaged in conversation with my kind host, in came an Englishman, and told me m all haste, that he had seen a train of nearly two hundred penitents passing along, and that in all probability I might be gratified with the same sight, if I hastened to a place whither he would conduct me. I very readily obeyed the summons, and, as curiosity quickened my pace, we soon came up with some of these poor creatures, who were then making a halt, and kneeling in the street, while a friar from a high cross, with an image of our Lord crucified in his hand, was preachin*:^ io them and the populace with great vehemence. Sermon being ended, the penitents went forward, and several companies followed after, with their respective preaching friars at their head, bearing crucifixes. These they pointed to and brandished frequently, and the hearers as frequently beat their breasts, and clapped their cheeks. At pro] )er pauses they stopped and prayed.

and one of them, more zealous than the rest, before the king’s palace, sounded the word penitenlia through a speaking trumpet. The penitents, themselves, were clothed and covered all over with white linen vestments, only holes were made for their eyes, to peep out at. All were bare-footed, and all had long heavychains fastened to their ankles, which, when dragged along the street, made a dismal rattling: but though alike in dress, yet in other respects there was great variety amongst them. For some carried great stones on their backs, and others dead men’s bones and skulls in their hands. Some bore large and seemingly very heavy crosses upon their shoulders, while others had their arms extended quite wide, or carried a bow full of swords, with the points downwards. Most of them whipped and lashed themselves, some with cords, and others with flat bits of iron. It being a moonlight night, I could see them quite well; and indeed, some of them struck so hard, that I perceived their backs, left bare on purpose to be lashed, were quite red, and swollen very much by the violence and repetition of the blows. Had my dear friend been there, he would have joined with me in saying, that the whole scene was horrible; so horrible, that, being informed it was to be continued till morning, I was glad to return from whence I came about midnight. Had you been with me, I know you would have joined with me in praising and gratefully adoring the Lord of all lords, for the great wonder of the reformation, and also for that glorious deliverance wrought out for us a few years past, in defeating the unnatural rebellion. O what a mighty spirit and power from on high must Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, Zuinglius, and those glorious reformers, have been necessarily endued with, who dared first openly to oppose and stem such a torrent of superstition and spiritual tyranny! and what gratitude owe we to those, who, under God, were instrumental in saving us from the return of such spiritual slavery, and such blind obedience to a papal power! To have had a papist for our lung; a papist, if not born, yet from his infancy nursed up at Rome; a papist, one of whose sons is advanced to the ecclesiastical dignity of a cardinal, ead both under the strongest obligations to support the inter-. of that church, whose superstitions, as well as political stiae principles, they have sucked in and imbibed even from their infancy. But, blessed be God, the snare is broken, and we .re delivered. O for Protestant practises to be added to Protestant principles! O for an obediential acknowledgment to the ever blessed God, for our repeated deliverances! But alas! Pardon mi.; my dear friend, I stop to weep. Adieu. I cannot enlarge, but leaving you to guess from what source my tears flow, I must hasten to subscribe myself, my dear friend, yours, dc.”

In another letter, dated April 9, 1754, he observes, “The preachers here have also taught me something; their action is graceful. Vividi oculi, — vlvid<e nianus, — omnia vivida. Surely our English preachers would do well, to be a little more fervent in their address. They have truth on their side, why should superstition and falsehood run away with all that is pathetic and affecting 7” In another letter he says, “Vast are the outward preparations made here. Altars upon altars are erecting. Penitents upon penitents are walking and lashing themselves: but what I want to have erected and adorned, is an altar in my heart, and the blows and lashes I desire to feel, are the crucifixion and mortification of the old man and its deeds. Without this, all is mere parade.” Again he says, April 10, 1754, “To-morrow is what they call Holy Thursday. May I be as solicitous to have my heart illuminated by the spirit of God, as the people here are to illuminate their churches and altars. The pageantry is, indeed, incredible. Though I have been detained longer than expectation, yet I trust what I have seen and heard, will do me service in the future part of my life. O that I may be like a busy bee, and suck some honey even from superstitious flowers! I do not wonder now, whence the illuminations, dressings of altars, and those other things which I have lately mentioned in a public manner on another occasion, took their birth. It is all an imitation of what is daily practised abroad. May the Lord Jesus crush the cockatrice in its Qg^.^ and prevent its growihg any bigger!”

The following letter contains a long and lively description of the superstitious and impious farces which he saw perform-’ ed on Holy Thursday as they call it; and concludes with suitable reflections, and sympathetic expressions towards the poor deluded people, the unhappy dupes of their crafty and designing priests, who cruelly prevent them from examining the word of God.

“Lisbon, April 12,1754.

“My dear friend,” Providence still detains us at Lisbon, and therefore I know you will be inquiring what more news from thence? Truly, as extraordinaiy as ever: for I have now seen the solemnities of a Holy Thursday, which is a very high day in this metropohs, and particularly remarkable for the grand illuminations of the churches, and the king’s washing twelve poor men’s feet. Through the interest of a friend, I got admittance into the gallery were the ceremony was performed. It was large, and himg with tapestry; one piece of which represented the humble Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. Before this, upon a small eminence, sat twelve men in black. At the upper end, and in several other parts of the gallery, were side boards of large gold and silver basins and ewers, most curiously wrought; and near these a large table covered with a variety of dishes, all cold, set off and garnished after the Portuguese fashion. Public high mass being over, his majesty came in, attended with his nobles, who seemed to me to look like so many Roman senators. The act of washing the feet, I did not get in time enough to see; but that being ended, several of the young noblemen served up the dishes to the king’s brother and uncles; these again handed them to his majesty, who gave, I think, twelve of them in all, to each poor man. Every thing was carried on with a great deal of decency and good humor. The young noblemen served very cheerfully, their seniors looked quite pleased, and the king and his royal relations behaved in a very polite, easy manner. Upon the whole, though, as you may easily guess, it was not an exact copy of the tapestry, yet as the poor men’s clothes and food, when sold, came to about ten moidores; and as there was a little mixture of superstition in it, I cannot say but I was as well pleased with my morning’s entertainment as any thing I had seen since my arrival. I believe the whole took up nearly two hoars. After dinner we went to see the churches; but the magnificence and sumptnousness of the furniture, cannot well be expressed. Many of them were hung on the occasion with purple damask trimmed with gold. In one of them there was a solid silver altar of several yards circumference, and nearly twelve steps high: and in another a gold one, still more magnificent, of about the same dimensions. Its basis was studded with many precious stones, and near the top were placed silver images, in representation of angels. Each step was filled with large silver candlesticks, with wax tapers in them, which going up by a regular ascent, until they formed themselves into a pyramid, made a most glittering and splendid blaze. The great altars also of the other churches were illuminated most profusely, and silver pots of artificial flowers, with large wax tapers between each, were fixed all around several of them. Between these, were large paintings in black and white, representing the different parts of our Savior’s passion. And, in short, all was so magnificently, so superstitiously grand, that I am jiersuaded several thousands of pounds would not defray the expenses of this one day. Go which way you would, nothing was to be seen but illuminations within, and hurry without. For all persons, princes and crowned heads themselves not excepted, are obliged on this day to visit seven churches or altars, in imitation, as is supposed, of our Lord’s being

MEMOtRS OP WHTTEPIELD. 157

1 lurried from one tribunal to another, liefore he was condemned to be hung upon the cross. I saw the queen yass in great state to visit three of them. Velvet cushions were carried before her majesty, and boards laid along the streets for licrself and retinue to walk upon. Guards attended before and behind, and thousands of spectators stood on each side to gaze at them as they passed along. Being desirous of seeing the manner of their entrance, we got into the last church before they came. It was that of St. Domingo, where was the gold altar before mentioned, and at which her majesty and train knelt about a quarter of an hour. All the while, the Dominican friars sung most surprizingly sweet. But as I stood near the altar, over against the gi-eat door, 1 must confess my very inmost soul was struck with a secret horror, when, upon looking up I saw, over the front of the great window of the church, the heads of many hundred Jews, painted on canvas, who had been condemned by what they call the Holy Inqulsitmi, and carried out from that church to be burned. Strange way this, of compelling people to come in! Such Vv’^as not thy method, O meek and compassionate Lamb of God! thou earnest not to destroy men’s lives, but to save them. BiU bigotry is as cruel as the grave. It knows no remorse. From all its bitter and dire effects, good Lord deliver us! But to return to the queen. Having performed her devotions, she departed and went in a coach of state, I believe, directly from the church to her palace, and without doubt sufficiently fatigued; for, besides walking through the streets to the several cluirches, her majesty also, and the princesses, had been engaged in waiting upon, and washing the feet of twelve poor women, in as public a manner as the king. In our walk home, we met his majesty with his brother and two uncles, attended only by a few noblemen in black velvet, and a few guards without halberts. I s’uppose he was retvu’uing from his last church, and as one may well imagine, equally fatigued with his royal consort and daughters. When church and state thus combine to be nursing fathers and nursing mothers to superstition, is it any wonder that its credit and influence is so diffusive among the populace? O Britain! Britain! hadst thou a zeal proportionable to thy knowledge, an inward purity adequate to the simplicity of thy external worship, in what a happy and godlike situation wouldst thou be! Here I could weep again. Again I leave you to guess the cause; and if I can send you one more letter of a like nature, before we leave this place, it is all you must expect from, my dear friend, yours most assuredly in our glorious Head, &.c.”

The following account of the representation of the crucifixion of the blessed Jesus, in one of the large churches, is curious.

“Lisbon, April 12, 1754. “My dear friend,” After the news already sent you, I thought our Lisbon correspondence would entirely have been put a stop to; for upon returning to my lodgings, as weary I believe, as others that had been running fiom church to church all day, word was sent to me, that our ship would certainly sail the next morning. This news, I own, as not altogether agreeable to me, because I wanted to see the conclusion of the Lent solemnities. However, I made ready; and having despatched my private affairs over night, was conducted very early in the morning, by my kind host, down to Bellum, where the ship lay. We parted. The wind promised to be fair; but dying away, I very eagerly went ashore once more. But how was the scene changed! Before, all used to be noise and hurry; now, all was hushed and shut up in the most awful and profound silence. No clock or bell had been heard since yesterday noon, and scarcely a person was to be seen in the street all the way to Lisbon. About two in the afternoon we got to the place, where, I heard some days ago, an extraordinaiy scene was to be exhibited. Can you guess what it was? Perhaps not. Why then I will tell you. It was the crucifixion of the Son of God, represented partly yy dumb images, and partly by living persons, in a large church belonging to the convent of St. De Beato. Several thousands crowded into it: some of whom, as I was told, had been waiting there from six m the morning. Through the kind interposition and assistance of a protestant or two, I was not only admitted into the church, but was very commodiously situated to view the whole performance. We had not waited long before the curtain was drawn up. Immediately, upon a high scaffold hung in the front with black baize, and behind with silk purple damask, laced with gold, was exhibited to our view an image of the Lord Jesus at full length, crowned with thorns, and nailed on a cross between two figures of like dimensions, representing the two thieves. At a little distance on the right hand, was placed an image of the virgin Mary, in plain long ruffles, and a kind of widow weeds. Her veil was purple silk, and she had a wire glory round her head. At the foot of the cross lay, in a mournful posture, a living man, dressed in woman’s clothes, who personated Mary Magdalen; and not far off stood a young man, in imitation of the beloved disciple. He was dressed in a loose green silk vesture, and bob wig. His eyes were fixed on the cross, and his hands a little extended. On each side, near the front of the stage, stood two sentinels in buff, with formidable caps and long beards; and directly in the front stood another yet more formidable, with a large target in his hand. We nuiy suppose him to be the Roman centurion. To complete the scene, from behind the purple hangings came out about twenty little purjtle vested winged boys, two by two, each bearing a lighted wax taper in his hand, and a crimson and gold cap on his head. At their entrance upon the stage, they gently bowed their heads to the spectators, then kneeled and made obeisance, first to the inuige on the cross, and then to that of the virgin Mury. When risen, they bowed to each other, and then took their respective places over against one another, on steps assigned for them at the front of the stage. Opposite to this, at a few yards distance, stood a black friar in a pulpit hung in mourning. For a while he paused, and then, breaking silence, gradually lifted up his voice until it was extended to a pretty high pitch, though I think scarcely high enough for so large an auditory. After he had proceeded in his discourse about a quarter of an hour, a confused noise was heard near the front great door; upon turning my head, I saw four long bearded men,

two of whom carried a ladder on their shoulders, and after them followed two more with large gilt dishes in their hands, full of linen, spices, &c. These, as I imagined, were the representatives of Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea. On a signal given from the pulpit, they advanced towards the steps of the scaffold. But upon their first attempting to mount it, at the watchful centurion’s nod, the observant soldiers made a pass at them, and presented the points of their javelins directly to their breasts. They are repulsed. Upon this a letter from Pilate is produced. The centurion reads it, shakes his head, and with looks that bespoke a forced compliance, beckons to the sentinels to withdraw their arms. Leave being thus obtained, they ascend; and having paid their homage, by kneeling first to the image on the cross, and then to the virgin Mary, they retired to the back of the stage. Still the preacher continued declaiming, or rather, as was said, explaining the mournful scene. Magdalen persists in wringing her hands, and variously expressing her personated sorrow; while John, seemingly regardless of all besides, stood gazing on the crucified figure. By this time it was near three o’clock, and therefore proper for the scene to begin to close. The ladders are ascended, the superscription and crown of thorns taken off, long white rollers put around the arms of the image, and then the nails knocked out which fastened the hands and feet. Here Mary Magdalen looks most languishing, and John, if possible, stands more thunder-struck than before. The orator lifts up his voice, and almost all the hearers expressed concern by weeping, beating their breasts, and smiting their cheeks. At length the body is gently let down. Magdalen eyes it, and, gradually rising, receives the feet into her wide spread handkerchief; while John, who hitherto stood motionless like a statue, as the body came nearer the ground, with an eagerness that bespoke the intense affection of a sympathizing friend, runs toward the cross, seizes the upper part of it into his clasping arms, and, with his disguised fellow-mourner, helps to bear it away. And here the play should end, were I not afraid you would be angry with me, if I did not give you an account of the last act, by telling you what became of the corpse after it was taken down. Great preparations were made for its interment. It was wrapped in linen and spices, <fcc., and being laid upon a bier richly hung, was afterwards carried round the church yard in grand procession. The image of the virgin Mary was chief mourner, and John and Magdalen, with a whole troop of friars, with wax tapers in their hands, followed after. Determined to see the whole, I waited its return, and in about a quarter of an hour the coi’pse was brought in, and deposited in an open sepulchre prepared for the purpose; but not before a priest, accompanied by several of the same order in splendid vestments, had perfumed it with incense, sung to, and kneeled before it. John and Magdalen attended the obsequies; but the image of the virgin Mary was carried away and placed upon the front of the stage, in order to be kissed, adored, and worshipped by the people. This I saw them do with the utmost eagerness and reverence. And thus ended this Good Friday’s tragi-comical, superstitious, idolatrous farce. A farce, which, while I saw, as well as now while I am describing it, excited in me a high indignation. Surely, thought I, while attending on such a scene of mock devotion, if ever, now is the Lord Jesus crucified afresh; and 1 could then, and even now, think of no other plea for the poor beguiled devotees, than that which suffering innocence put up himself for his enemies, when actually hanging upon the cross: ‘Father, forgive them, for they Imow

not what they do.’ There was but one thing wanting to raise one’s resentment to the highest pitch, and that was, for one of the soldiers to have pierced the side of the image upon the cross. This in all probability you have heard has actually been done in other places, and with a little more art, might, I think, have been performed here. Doubtless it would have afforded the preacher as good, if not a better opportunity of working upon the passions of his auditoi7, than the taking down the superscription and crown of thorns, and wiping the head with a blooded cloth, and afterwards exposing it to the view of the people; all which I saw done before the body was let down. But alas! my dear friend, how mean is that eloquence, and how entirely destitute of the demonstration of the spirit, and of a divine power, must oratory necessarily be, that stands in need of such a train of superstitious pageantry to render it impressive! Think you, my dear friend, that the ayX)stle Paul used or needed any such artifices to excite the passions of the people of Galatia, amongst whom, as he himself informs us, ‘Jesus Christ was crucified, and evidently set forth T But thus it is, and thus it will he, when simplicity and spirituality are banished from our religious offices, and artifice and idolatry seated in their room. I am well aware that the Romanists deny the charge of idolatry; but after having seen what I have seen this day, as well as at sundry other times since my arrival here, I cannot help thinking that a person must be capable of making more than metaphysical distinctions, and deal in very abstract ideas indeed, fairly to evade the charge. If weighed in the balance of the sanctuary, I am positive the scale must turn on the Protestant side. But such a balance these poor people are not permitted to make use of! Doth not your heart bleed for them ‘I Mine doth I am sure, and I believe would do so more and more, were I to stay longer, and see what they call their hallelujah, and grand devotions on Easter day. But that scene is denied me. The wind is fair, and I must away. Follow me with your prayers, and believe me to be, my dear friend, yours, &c.”

Leaving Lisbon, after a passage of six weelfs, he arrived, May 27, at Beaufort, in South Carolina, with his orphans, all in health. Having settled them in his family in Georgia, which now consisted of upwards of one hundred, and spent some time in Carolina, he made an excursion to the northward.

“At Charleston,” says he, “and other parts of Carolina, my poor labors have met with the usual acceptance; and I have reason to hope a clergyman has been brought under very serious impressions. My health is wonderfully preserved. My wonted vomitings have left me; and though I ride whole nights, and have been frequently exposed to great thunders, violent lightnings, and heavy rains, yet I am rather better than usual, and as far as I can judge, am not yet to die. O that I may at length learn to begin to live! I am ashamed of my sloth and lukewarmness, and long to be on the stretch for God!”

He arrived at New York, by water, July 27, and preached backwards and forwards, from New York to Philadelphia, and Whitely Creek, till the middle of September. “Every where,” he observes, “a divine power accompanied the word, prejudices were removed, and a more effectual door opened than ever for preaching the gospel.”

In the latter end of September, he enjoyed the pleasure of meeting his venerable old friend. Governor Belcher, at Elizabethtown, New Jersey.* And it being the New Jersey commencement, the president and trustees presented Mr. Whitefield with the degree of A. M. The meeting of the Synod succeeded, before whom he preached several times. He had much satisfaction in their company. “To-morrow,” says he, “October 1, God willing, I shall set out with the worthy president, Mr. Burr, for New England, and expect to return back to the Orphan-house, through Virginia. This will be about a two THOUSAND miles circuit; but the Redeemer’s strength will be more than sufHcient.” He likewise wished, had it been practicable, to stop some time at the West Indies, before he returned to England.

October 9, he arrived at Boston, accompanied by President Burr, where he remained a week, preaching with great success. “In Rhode Island and Boston,” he says, “souls fly to the gospel, like doves to their wlndoiDs. Opposition seems to fall daily,” To his great joy, while at Boston, he heard the welcome news, that a governor was at last appointed for Georgia, to whom his friend, Mr. Habersham, was made secretary. To

* When Whitefield was in this country, the Rev. William Tennent paid him a visit; and dined, together with him and other ministers, at a gentleman’s house. After dinner, Mr. Whitefield adverted to the difficulties attending the gospel ministry; lamented that all their zeal availed but little; said that he was weary with the burdens of the day; declared his great consolation was, that in a short time his work would be done, when he should depart and be with Christ; he then appealed to the ministers, if it was not their great comfort that they should soon go to rest. They generally assented, except Mr. Tennent who sat next to Whitefield in silence; and by his countenance discovered but little pleasure in the conversation. Whitefield tapping him On the knee, said, “Well! brother Tennent, you are the oldest man amongst us, do you not rejoice to think that your time is so near at hand, when you will be called home ■?” Mr. T. bluntly answered, “I have no wish about it.” Whitefield pressed him again; and Mr. T. again answered,” No, sir, it is no

fleasure to me at all; and if you knew your duty, it would be none to you. have nothing to do with death; my business is to live as long as I can, as well as I can, and to serve my master as faithfully as I can, until he shall think proper to call me home.” Whitefield still urged for an explicit answer to his question, in case the time of death were left to his own choice. Mr. T. replied, “I have no choice about it: I am God’s servant, and have engaged to do his business as long as he pleases to continue me therein. But now, brother, let me ask you a question. What do you think I would say, if I was to send my man Tom into the field to plough; and if at noon I should go to the field, and find him lounging under a tree, and complaining, ‘Master, the sun is very hot, and the ploughing very hard, I am weary of the work you have appointed me, and am overdone with the heat and burden of the day: do master, let me return home, and be discharged from this hivrd service V What would I say 1 Why, that he was a lazy fellow; that it was his business to do the work I had appointed him, until I should think fit to call him home.” The pleasant manner in which this reproof was administered, rather increased the social harmony of the company; who became satisfied that it was very possible to err, even in desiring with undue earnestness “to depart and be with Christ, which is far better” than to remain in this imperfect state; and that it is the duty of the christian in this respect to say, “all the days of my appointed time will I wait till my change come.”

him hu writes, “may the King of kings enable you to discharge your trust, as becomes a good patriot, subject, and christian!”

He now traveled north as far as Portsmouth, New Hampshire, always preaching two or three times a day. At Boston he met with a far more agreeable reception than formerly; and his ministry, in general, seemed to be attended with as great a blessing as ever.

November 7, at four o’clock in the morning, he took an affectionate leave of his friends in Boston, proceeded to Rhode Island, and went onward through Maryland and Virginia, with a prospect so pleasing, that he lamented he had not come sooner. The whole country seemed eager to hear the gospel, many coming forty or fifty miles, and a spirit of conviction and consolation appeared in every congregation. Prejudices seemed to have fled — churches were opened to him — high and low, rich and poor, now seemed to think favorably of his ministrations; and many acknowledged what God had done for their souls, through his preaching, when he was there before.

In February, 1755, he went back to Charleston, and then to Savannah, preaching as usual; till in the latter end of March he embarked for England, and arrived safe, on the 8th of May, at New Haven in Sussex.

The chief thing which he took notice of, on his landing once more in his native country, was the wonderful success of the gospel. “Glory be to the great head of the church! the word hath still free course. The poor despised Methodists are as lively as ever; and in several churches the gospel is now preached with power. Many m Oxford are awakened to the knowledge of the truth; and I have heard almost every week of some fresh minister, or another, that seems determined to knoio nothing hut Jesus Christ and him crucijied,^^* This consideration re-animated him. He seemed to preach with increasing energy and success in liOndon, Bristol, Bath, and in Gloucestershire, till the month of August. He then went to open the Tabernacle at Norwich. “At this last place,” he says, “notwithstanding offenses have come, there has been a glorious work begun, and is now carrying on, (August 30, 1755.) The polite and great seem to hear with much attention; and I scarce ever preached a week together with greater freedom.”

Soon after this, he set out on his northern circuit; and the Lord wonderfully blessed his labors all the way, especially at Northampton, Liverpool, Bolton, Manchester, Leeds, Bradford,

In the MS. he puts down the names of Jones, Romaine, and Madan, of whom it appears he intended to have written more particularly.

York, &c.* He proposed to go to Ireland; but after spending a few days at Newcastle, lie Ibund it was too late to go there, or even to Scotland; he therefore returned to London, having preached two or three times a day for two months, to many thousands. “Next to Jesus,” says he, “my king and country, were upon my heart. I hope I shall always think it my bounden duty, next to inviting sinners to the blessed Jesus, to exhort my hearers to exert themselves against the first approaches of popish t5n’anny, and arbitrary power.t O that we may be enabled to watch and pray, against all the opposition of antichrist in our hearts! for after all, there lies the most dangerous man of sin.”

In November he caught cold, and preached in much pain, having a sore throat: this obliged him to be silent a few days; as it was feared, it would end in an inflammatory quinsy. But as soon as the danger was over, he could not be restrained from his master’s work. I

Application being now made to him, by many persons, to preach twice a week at Long Acre chapel, near the theaters, upon being assured that the place was licensed, he preached his first sermon there, December 23, 1755; but not without great opposition’. He received a prohibition from the bishop

of B, A number of soldiers, drummers, and many other

malicious persons were employed to make a noise in an adjoining house, or yard, belonging to a Mr. C: these raised

a dreadful uproar, and that as often as Mr. Whitefield preached. They were hired by subscription, and supplied with drums, bells, &c., thus keeping up a continual din, from the beginning to the end of his sermon. Thus mobs were excited to riot at the doors of the chapel, msulting and abusing both preacher and hearers, as soon as service was over. They repeatedly broke tife windows with large stones, by which several of the congregation were severely wounded. In consequence of these unwarrantable proceedings, Whitefield wrote several

spirited letters to the bishop of B; in one of them he

thanks his lordship for his candor, favorable opinion, and good wishes, the bishop having answered his first letter; but yet, in a manly style, and with a just sense of British liberty, defended his own conduct, and powerfully remonstrated against

* “At York, I hope a fine scntk’inan was loiiclied; and several, I find, were awakened theBc, and at Newca.slle, at my last visit.”

t This refers to the encroachments made by the French upon the British colonies in America; and their threatening Great Britain with an invasion; which occasioned a declaration of war against France next year.

t “One physician prescribeil a prrpdiuil blister; but I have found perpetual preaching to be a better remedy. When this great calholicon fails, it is over with me.”

r[‘r-P!T SCKM’

■At the Tabernacle, a man came up to him in the pulpit.” p. 105, the riotous proceedings of his enemies. “Last Tuesday night,” says he,” all was hushed, ;md in order to throw off all popular odium, I gave it fis my opinion, that it was owing to your

lordship’s kind interposition. One Mr. C, and one Mr.

M, I am informed are greatly concerned. I Jtnow them

not; and I pray the Lord of all lords, never to lay this ill and unmerited treatment to their charge. If no more noise is made on their part, I assure your lordship, no further resentment shall be made on mine. But, if they persist, I have the authority of the apostle, on a like occasion, to appeal unto Casar; and thanks be to God, we have a Caesar to appeal to, whose laws will not suffer any of his loyal subjects to be treated in such an inhuman manner. I have only one favor to beg of your lordship, that you would send, as they are your lordship’s parishioners, to the above gentlemen, and desire them, henceforward to desist from such unchristian, and, especially at this critical juncture, such riotous and dangerous proceedings. Whether as a chaplain to a most worthy peeress, and a presbyter of the Church of England, and a steady disinterested friend to our present happy constitution, I have not a right to ask such a favor, I leave to your lordship’s mature deliberation.” In the mean time his preaching was blessed by God, particularly to one, who had been a subscriber to hire rioters to make a noise.

In the beginning of February, 1756, he sent eighty pounds of the collection which he had made at the Tabernacle, on the day of the public fast, to the society for relieving the poor persecuted French Protestants.*

The riots at Long Acre chapel still continuing with increasing violence, his friends persuaded him to proseciUe those notorious otfenders against all law and decency; which being loiown, his life was threatened. At the Tabernacle, a man came up to him in the pulpit: and three anonymous letters were sent him, denouncing certain and sudden death, unless he desisted from preaching and pursuing the offenders. As the matter concerned not only himself, but the public also, and struck at the welfare of civil government, he sent a copy of

one of the letters to the Honorable Hume C 11, begging the

favor of his advice; who advised him, by all means, to put all concerned into the court of king’s bench. The Earl of Holderness, one of the secretaries of state, to whom he was introduced on this occasion, received him very courteously, seeming inclined to offer a reward for the discovery of the letter writer.

This year, 1756, he published, “A short Address to Persons of all Denominations, occasioned by the alarm of an intended invasion,” which will be found near the end of this volume.

106 MEMOIRS OF AVailTEFIEI.D.

“I find,” says Whitefield. in a letter to Lady Huntingdon, May 2, 1756, “that all thin<rs happen for the furtherance of the gospel, I suppose your ladyship has seen his majesty’s promise of a pardon, to any that will discover the writer: and this brings the further news of my having taken a piece of gi’ound, very commodious to build on, not far from the foundling hospital. I have opened the subscription, and through God’s blessing, it has already amounted to near six hundred pounds. I hope, in a few months, to have, what has long been wanted, a place for the gospel at the other end of the town. This even-Hig, God willing, I venture once more to preach at Long Acre.” Te place he here speaks of, is the chapel in Tottenham court road, which he began to build. May 10, 1756,

Soon after this, he again made his favorite tour, successfully preaching about three weeks at the following places; at Bristol, and in Gloucestershn-e; at Bradford, Fromer, Warminster, and at Portsmouth; and returned to London in the beginning of June.

In a letter, dated July 27, he says, “The gospel flourishes in London. I am just returned from preaching at Sherness, Chatham, and in the camp.” The next day he set ofl” for Scotland. On his journey he writes thus:” Sunderland, August 14. 1756. How swiftly doth my precious time fly away! It is now a fortnight since I came to Leeds; in and about which, I preached eight days, thrice almost every day, to thronged and affected auditories. On Sunday last, at Bradford, in the morning, the auditory consisted of about ten thousand; at noon, and in the evening, at Birstall, to near double the number. Though hoarse, I was helped to speak so that all heard. Next morning, I took a sorrowful leave of Leeds; preached at Doncaster at noon and at York the same night. On Wednesday, at Warstall, about fifty miles off; on Thursday, twice at Yaran ] and last night and this morning here. Wherever he came, he heard of the good effects of his preaching in those parts last year.

Upon receiving pressing invitations, by letter, from friends in Scotland, he again set out and arrived at Edinburgh, on the 20th of August; where, and at Glasgow, he continued to preach with much acceptance, and peculiar success. The Glasgow Courant has the following accounts:

“Edinburgh, Sept, 9, 1756. “For near these three weeks the Rev. Mr. Whitefield has been preaching in the Orphan-hospital park, to very crowded auditories, twice every day. As he was frequently very explicit in opening the miseries of popish tyranny and arbitrary t power, and very warm in exhorting his hearei”s to loyalty and courage at home, and in stirring them up to pray for the success of his majesty’s forces, both by sea and land abroad, we have reason to believe, that his visit at this juncture hath been particularly useful.

“Edinburgh, Sept. 23.

“On Sunday evening, the Rev. Mr. Whitefield. after sermon, made a collection for the poor highlanders, when upwards of sixty yX)unds sterling was collected.”

September 22. he received a message from the new governor of Georgia in London, desiring to see and converse with him, concerning the alfairs of the colony, before he embarked.

In his way to London, he stopped at Leeds, and went some

days into good Mr. G and J -’s round, preaching to

great multitudes on the mountains; but the appearance of a return of his last year’s disorder, obliged him to hasten to town. On the 7th of November, he opened his new chapel in Tottenham court road, preaching from 1 Cor. iii. 11. For other foimdation can no man lay, than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ.