From His Opening the Chapel in Tottenham Court Road to His Arrival in Edinburgh, 1759

His constant work was now preaching about fifteen times a week, which, with a weak appetite, want of rest, and much care lying upon his mind, reduced him to a state of great bodily weakness. “But yet,” says he, “the joy of the Lord is my strength; and my greatest grief is, that I can do no more for him, who has done and suflered so much for me.”

His new chapel succeeded according to his wish. On Sunday mornings, hundreds went away, not being able to get in. Several people of rank were desirous of obtaining constant seats; and a very aifecting letter was received from one under convictions, who acknowledged that curiosity alone brought him first to see what sort of a place it was.* It is said that Hume was a hearer of Mr. “lliitefield, and was much taken with his eloquence. Such testimonies as the latter, are recorded merely for their singularity

* “A neighboring doctor calls the place Whitefield’s Socl Trap. I pray the friend of sinners, to make it a soul trap indeed, to many wandering creatures. Shuter, the player, always makes one of the auditory; and, as I hear, is much impressed, and brings others with him.”

t An intimate friend of the infidel Hume, asked him what he thought of Mr. Whitefield’s preaching; for he had listened to the latter part of one of

In ITHT, he again took his circuit nortliward, and came to Edinburgh some time in the month of May. and at the time of the annual meeting of the general assembly, a circumstance which afforded him much satisfaction. His preaching was attended by many ministers; it is said, a hundred at a time. Many of them appeared to be deeply affected; and thus their prejudices wore removed. About thirty of them, as a proof of their regard, invited him to a public entertainment. His majesty’s commissioner. Lord Cathcart, also invited him to his table. And his lordship’s predecessor, the Earl of 1,, showed particular attention to Whitelield, as indeed he had constantly done from the time of his first coming to Scotland. Multitudes, and a great many of them of the highest rank, daily flocked to hear him. The congregations still increased more and more.

liCaving Edinburgh, he arrived at Glasgow on the 8th of June, havmg preached twice by the way, and continued preaching as usuat, till the 14th, in the High Church yard, to large congregations, tvlace a day; and both forenoon and afternoon, in a church in the city.

Seeing the pitiable condition the poor of Glasgow were in at this time, notwithstanding the bounty of the affluent and humane, he, with the concurrence of the magistrates, at his sermon on Monday evening, made a collection for them, amounting to near sixty pounds. Next day he preached at Paisley; and immediately set out for Ireland.

His reception in Dublin was as promising as formerly; the congregations were very large, and a blessing appeared to attend his preaching, many being much affected. A certain prelate told a noble lord, that he was glad Whitefield had come to rouse the people. Persons of all ranks attended, and all seemed, in some measure, affected with the solemn truths which he delivered.

his sermons at Edinburgh. “He is sir,” said Mr. Hume, “the most mgenious preacher I evef hca)d. It is worth while to go twenty miles to hear him.” He then repeated the following passage which he heard towards the close of that discourse. “After a solemn pause, Mr. “Whitefield thus addressed his numerous auditory: — ‘The attendant angel is just about to leave the threshold, and ascend to heaven. And shall he ascend and not bear with him the news of one sinner, among all this multitude, reclaimed from the error of his ways V To give the greater etlect to this exclamation, he stamped with his foot,“lifted up his hands and eyes lo heaven, and with gashing tears, cried aloud, ‘Stop, Gabriel! Stop, Gabriel! Stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and yet carry with you the news of one sinner converted to God.’ He then in the most simple, but energetic langu-ige, described what he called a Savior’s dying love to sinfyl man; so that almost the whole assembly melted into tears. This address was accompanied with such anmiated, yet natural action that it surpassed anything 1 ever saw or heard in any other preacher.” -Happy had it been for poor Hume, had he received what he then heard, “as the word of God, and not as the word of man!”

WHITEFIELD ASSAULTED BY A MOB.

‘« I thought of Stephen, and was in hopes, like him, to go ofF in this bloody triumph, to the immediate presence of ray Master.” [p. 169.

On Sunday afternoon, having preached in Oxmantown Green, a place much frequented by large parties of the Ormond and Liberty Boys, as they were called, wIjo often fought there, he very narrowly escaped with his life. It Ijeing war time, he had earnestly exhorted his hearers, as was his usual practice, not only to fear God, but also to honor the king; and prayed for the success of his Prussian majesty’s arms. While he was preaching, and earnest in prayer, some stones were thrown at him, which providentially did him no hurt. But when he had done, endeavoring to return the way that he came, by the barracks, to his great surprise, access was denied: so that he was obliged to walk near half a mile over the green, through some hundreds of rioters and bulfoons, who, perceiving him to be alone, four preachers and a soldier having deserted him and fled, threw showers of stones upon him from every quarter, which made him reel backwards and forwards, till he was almost breathless, and covered with a gore of blood.* At length, with the greatest difficulty, he staggered to the door of a minister’s house, near the green, which was humanely opened to him. For a considerable time he remained speechless, and gasping for breath; jbut his weeping friends having given him some cordials, and washed his wounds, procured a coach, in which, amidst vollies of oaths, horrid imprecations, and violent threatenings of the rabble, he came safe home; and joined in a hymn of thanksgiving with his mourning, yet rejoicing friends; of whom he says, “none but spectators could form an idea of the affection with which I was received.”t

“I received many blows and wounds; one was particularly large and near my temples. I thought of Stephen; and was in hopes, like him, to go off in this bloody triumph, to the immediate presence of my Master.”

He used to say, in speaking of this event, that in England, Scotland and America, he had been treated only as a common minister of the g<5spel, but that in Ireland he had been elevated to the rank of an AposLlc, in having had the honor of being stoned.

t It was under this sermon, that the late Rev. John Edwar^Js was impressed with the great importance of religion. Whitefield, in the sermon alluded to, addressed the consciences of the people with such pecuiiar energy and success, that Mr. E. thought every word was personally directed to him, though he had concealed himself from the preacher’s view, and to him was entirely unknown.

In what period of his life he entered on the work of the ministry, we cannot learn. Several years he preached in connection with Mr. Wesley; but some disagreeable circumstances existing in the society of Leeds, he and a number of friends, attached to him as the instrmnent of their spiritual knowledge and happiness, after much deliberation with each other, and prayer to God, withdrew themselves, and built another chapel, where he continued to dispense the word of life for more than thirty years.

Before he settled at Leeds, in the year 1755, he vienl abaui doing good,, after the example of the friend of sinners. He endured the cross and despised the shame. In Ireland he traveled and labored much in the early part of the ministry; and the effects of his hiunble exertions to diffuse the knowledge of

The next morning, though extremely weak, he set out for Port Arlington, “leaving,” he says, “my persecutors to his mercy, who of persecutors has often made preachers. I pray God, I may thus be avenged of them!”

Having preached at Port Arlington, Athlone, Limerick, and Cork; in the begiiming of August, he returned to England; and whenever the weather was favorable, continued to range, as he termed it, every where preaching with as great earnestness and apparent success as ever. “This spiritual hunting,”

Christ, were crowned with abundant success. At one time, while he resided in Dublin, as he was returning from preaching at a village, a party of rude fellows, composed of the Ormond Boys, who used to assemble in the evening, recognized him as swaddling John* a term of reproach applied to the Methodist preachers in Ireland; and seized him with all the madness of their enmity against the truth he preached, declared they would throw him over the bridge into the Lifl’cy. This was observed by an opposite party, who had assumed the appellation of Liberty Boys, residing on the other side of the river; they immediately encountered his assailants, determined they would rescue him out of their hands. This they accomplished, and carried him home in triumph; saying he was their swaddling John, for he lived on their side of the river, and none should hurt him. Thus God preserved his life, and made both the wrath and ignorance of man to praise him.

At another time, having preached out of doors, after he had finished his discourse, a furious mob of the White Boys beset the house into which he had entered, and threatened to burn it to the ground, if he was permitted to continue in it. This desperate menace greatly alarmed the inhabitants, who were extremely unwilling to gratify their wicked desire. There was, however, but one way for his escape, and that was through a window which opened into a garden lielonging to a justice of the peace, who was himself a bitter persecutor of the Methodists; through this window he was let down in a basket. Here he stood some time in great consternation, fearing the family would observe him, and charge him with having broken into their garden for bad purposes, and that thereby both himself and religion might be injured. At length he ventured to knock at the door; asked for the squire; and being introduced, ingeniously stated the circumstances of his distressed situation, which had such an effect on the magistrate’s mind, that he protected and entertained him at his house two days in a hospitable manner.

He was sincere in all his pastoral engagements — deeply impressed with the vast importance of his work, and greatly loved by his congregation. The salvation of souls excited his watchfulness, his prayers, and his zeal; and in his whole life he was an epistle of Christ, lcnon:n and read of all men.

Governed by a disinterested concern for the peace and prosperity of the people committed to his charge, he was instant in season and out of season; reproving, rebuking, and exhorting with all long suffering and gentleness.

“And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new fledged ofispring to the skies;
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allur’d to brighter worlds, and led the way.”

On the 17th of February, 1785, aged 71, he bid adieu to all his connections ill this mortal life, and entered inlo his eternal rest.

* This term of reproach originated in the following circumstance. Soon after the introduction of Metliodipira into Ireland, the late Rev. John Cennick wu.s preucliing in Diililin on a Cluistiiias day. His text wag Luke ii. 12. Ye shall Jind the babe xvrapped in moaddlin clothes, and lying in a manger. A drunken fellow, who was listening at the d«or, to iiiok up soinilhinK by wlii.li In- might ridicule this new religion, which had not yet ohtaincd a name: hearing the word .iiratlriling ,^i^>u repealed, ran along the street, exxlaiming with great vulgarity, O ’ the.v juiiplr are sirmlillrrs, they arc stvaddlcu! s The name (juickly took, and became the badge ol opiirobrium Ihiough Ireland.

MEMOIRS OF WinTKFIKLD. 171

says lie, “is delightful sport, when I he heart is in the work!” At Plymouth, lie had the jdoasnre of seeing officers, soldiers, sailors, (fcc. attending divine worship with becoming reverence and delight. He enjoyed, also, delightful seasons in Exeter, Bristol, Gloucester, and other towns, and about the middle of October, 1757, returned to London. IJy his unremitted attendance this winter at the chapel and the Tabernacle, together with much study and care, his health became greatly impaired. Weakened as he was by continual vomitings, want of sleep, and loss of appetite, he, however, still went on as well as he could. “I am brought noAV,” says he, “to the short allowance of preaching but once on week days, and twice on a Sunday.” When disengaged from his public ministrations, he was ever projecting some plan or other for the advancement of religion; as the erecting of alms-houses for religious widows, on the ground which surrounded the chapel. “I have a plan,” says he, “for twelve. The whole expense will be four hundred pounds. I have a prospect of two. I propose allowing each widow half a crown a week. The sacrament money will more than do. If this be affected, many godly widows will be provided for, and a standing monument left that the Methodists were not against good works.” In a short time he put this plan into execution. February 16, 1758, the foundation of the alms-house was laid, and the widows began to be admitted in the June following.*

His summer circuit this year, he began at Gloucester: from whence he proceeded to Bristol, and onward to Wales. During his stay in that country, his heahh was much on the decline; so that he could not sit up in company, as he had been used to do; and could take but little food. Yet, notwithstanding his infirmities, he continued his journey through great part of South Wales, incredible multitudes attending his preaching wherever he went.

In the month of July, he set off for Scotland. In his way, he preached at Everton, St. Neot’s, Kayso, Bedford, Oulney, Weston, Underwood, Ravenstone, Northampton, and Newcastle. Four clergymen lent him their pulpits. His bodily strength so litde increased by this journey, that he frequently felt an inchnation to turn back. But he did not think it consistent with his duty. “Through divine strength,” says he, “I hope to go forward; and shall strive, as much as in me lies, to die in this glorious work.” Yet, through the divine blessing, his

* To a gentleman who visited him m London in the year 1768, he pointed out those houses from the room in which they sat, and said, “those are my redoubts. The prayers of the poor women who reside in them, protect me in my house.”

health was greatly increased, soon after his return from Scotland. From Edinburgh, he writes, August 19 and 24: —” For these four months past, 1 have been brought so exceedingly low in my body, that I was in hopes every sermon I preached would waft me to my wished for home. Scotland, I hoped would finish my warfare; but it has rather driven me back to sea again. On Tuesday next, I thought to have moved; but as it is race-week, and my health is improving, friends advise me to stay, to stir them up to nin with j)atience the race that is set before iis The following account appeared in the Glasgow Courant.

“Edinburgh, September 14, 1758. Mr. Whitefield’s presence, at this time, has been particularly useful to the Orphan-hospital, for which upwards of two hundred pounds has been raised from the collection at the doors, and seat rents. Before he left Glasgow, he made a collection for the Glasgow Charitable Highland Society, for supporting the highland children; a scheme particularly useful at this time, when so many of their parents and friends are abroad in America, in his majesty’s service. During his stay here, he has had occasion to preach three thanksgiving sermons, for the victory of Crevelt, the taking of Cape Breton, and the late defeat of the Russians. By his warm and repeated exhortations to loyalty, and a steady adherence to the Protestant interest on this and all other occasions, it must be acknowledged, even in this view, his visit here has been useful to the cominunity in a civil, as well as a religious light.”

Having left Edinburgh, he preached with his usual abundant liberty and success in most of the principal towns, in the north of England; and about the end of October, arrived in London. His affairs in America being in a prosperous state, he now began to think of going over to Georgia again. “Blessed be God,” says he, “that I can send you word, a never failing Providence has put it in my power to pay off all Bethesda’s arrears. I am talking every day of coming over; but how to do it in war time, or “how to get the chapel and Tabernacle supplied, I cannot, as yet, be clear in.”

Not being able, it seems, to get over these difficulties, he spent the winter of 1758, in London; and opened his spring campaign at Bristol. The month of June he spent preaching through Gloucestershire and Yorlcshire; people of all ranks and distinctions every where flocked, as usual, twice a day, to hear him, and from thence revisited Scotland.

MEMOins OF WHITEPIELD. 173