An Examination of Mr. Whitefield’s Character as an Orator, Preacher, and Christian

In the preceding memoir, the main facts of interest in Mr. Whitefield’s pubUc career have been narrated in detail, and while they prove and illustrate the influence of extraordinary elements in the formation of his character, they are yet far from stating, or holding forth in distinct view, what these elements were. It cannot be otherwise than profitable to unravel as far as possible, the secret of this man’s almost super-human power, that we may know in what respects he ought to be our model, and in the light of his excellencies and defects, rightly appreciate, adjust, and attemper our own characters. A general review of his public course, illustrated by some of those

* For a description of his person see page 23.

incidents of every-day life, in which character is nakedly and spontaneously spoken out, will be most likely to set forth distinctly those gifts, in which he was “imitating none and inimitable by any.” In terminating this memoir, therefore, we shall endeavor to give a more decisive expression and meaning to the wondrous incidents already detailed, by illustrating them in the light of the principles and constitutional peculiarities, in which they had their origin. For the more perfect accomplishment of this aim, recourse will be had to those authors who have been most successful in their attempts to define and delineate his real character.

In reviewing the life of this extraordinary man, the following particulars appear very remarkable.

First — We are struck with his unwearied diligence in the offices of religion, and his conscientious improvement of every portion of his time. Early in the morning he rose to his Master’s work, and all the day long was employed in a continual succession of different duties. Take a view of his public conduct; here he is engaged either in preaching the gospel, in visiting and giving counsel to the afflicted, in instructing the ignorant, or in celebrating the praises of God. Observe his behavior in private company; there you hear him introducing, upon all occasions, and among all sorts of people, discourse that tended to edification. And if you follow him to his retirements, you see him writing devout meditations upon the occurrences of the day, or letters to his christian acquaintance, full of piety and zeal. What a gloomy idea must a stranger to vital piety entertain of a life spent in this manner! He will think it must have been not only joyless and disgusting, but intolerably burdensome. Far otherwise did it appear in the experience of this servant of Christ. He felt the greatest enjoyment when engaged m a constant round of social and religious duties. In these, whole weeks passed away like one day. And when he was visited with any distress or aflliction, preaching, as he tells us himself, was his catholicon, and prayer his antidote against every trial. The pleasure of a man of business, in successfully pushing his trade, or of a philosopher, when pursuing his favorite studies, may give us some faint conception of the joys which he felt. Yet so ardent were his desires after the heavenly happiness, that he often longed to finish his work, and to go home to his Savior. “Blessed be God,” says he, “the prospect of death is pleasant to my soul. I would not live here always. I want to be gone. Sometimes it arises from a fear of falling. Sometimes from a prospect of future labors and sufferings. But there are times when my soul has such foretastes of God, that I long more eagerly to be with him; and the prospect of the happiness which the spirits of just men made perfect, now enjoy, often carries me, as it were, into another world.”,

Again, we are justly surprised at his frequent and fervent preachhig, under all the disadvantages of a sickly constitution, and the many fits of illness with which he was suddenly seized. It must, indeed, be confessed, that change of air, frequent traveling on horseback, and the many voyages he made, might contribute to the preservation of his health and vigor; but when we consider what exertion of voice was necessary to reach his large congregations; that he preached generally two or three times a day,* and often four times on the Lord’s day; but above all, after what waste of strength and spirits every sermon must have cost him, through the earnestness of his delivery, it is truly astonishing, how his constitution could hold out so long. He says, “I preach till I sweat through and through.” But there is another circumstance not less remarkable than either of the former; which is, the uncommon desire

*” As a specimen of his indefatigable labors in the work of the ministry, we take the following account of the sermons he preached after his arrival at Newport, Rhode Island, to the time of his death. He sailed from New York, Tuesday, July 31, P. M., arrived at Newport, Friday, August 3, A. M., and preached,

Aug. 4, at Newport,

5, do.

6, do.

7, do.

8, do.

9, at Providence,

10, do.

11, do.

12, do.

13, at Attleborough,

14, at Wrentham,

15, at Boston,

16, do.

17, do.

18, do.

19, at Maiden,

20, at Boston,

21, do.

22, do.

23, do.

Aug. 24, at Boston,

25, do.

26, at Medford,

27, at Charlestown,

28, at Cambridge,

29, at Boston,

30, do.

31, at Roxbury Plain,
Sept. 1, at Milton,

2, at Roxbury,

3, at Boston,

5, at Salem,

6, at Marblehead,

7, at Salem,

8, at Cape Ann,

9, at Ipswich,

10, at Newburyport,

11, do.

12, at Rowley,

13, do.

“Prom the 13th of Sept. to the 17th, he was detained from public service by a severe indisposition. When recovered, he preached,

Sept. 17, at Boston, I Sept. 19, at Boston,

18, do. I 20, at Newton.

“The 21st of September, he departed from Boston, upon a tour to the eastward, pretty much indisposed. But on the 23d he preached.

Sept. 23, at Portsmouth,

24, do.

25, do.

26, at Kittery,

Sept. 27, at York,

28j at Portsmouth, 29, at Exeter.^ that all sorts of people expressed to attend his preaching, and that not upon the first or second visit only, but at every succeeding opportunity. AVherever he went, prodigious numbers flocked to hear him. His congregations often consisted of about four or five thousand; in populous places they swelled to ten thousand; sometimes fourteen thousand; and upon some occasions, the concourse was so great, that they have been computed to amount from twenty to thirty thousand.

It is wonderful to think, how he commanded the attention of such multitudes; with what composure they listened when he began to speak; how they hung upon his lips, and were often dissolved in tears; and this was the case with persons of the most hardy and rugged, as well as those of the softer tempers.

It will be remembered that he encountered severe trials and opposition on his first entrance into Scotland, because he refused assent to certain notions of church discipline. While the dignitaries were denouncing him as fanatical, he rode triumphantly through all opposition. His amenity and warmth of disposition, aided by his mighty eloquence, enabled him to rise before auditories that had just heard him reviled, and silence his detractors by the emphatic rebuke implied in an admiring audience. The following account, chiefly in his own language, is a true record of his triumphs, and will conduct us at once to consider their origin — his unparalleled eloquence.

Coming as a stranger into Scotland, and being free from all local prejudice and passion upon the subject, Whitefield saw the folly and the mischief of the schisms in which his new acquaintance were engaged. They spared no pains to win him over to their side. ‘•’ I find,” said he, “Satan now turns himself into an angel of light, and stirs up God’s children to tempt me to come over to some particular party.” To one of his correspondents he replies, “I wish you would not trouble yourself or me in writing about the corruption of the Church of England. I believe there is no church perfect under heaven; but as God, by his providence, is pleased to send me forth simply to preach the gospel to all, I think there is no need of casting myself out.” He was invited to Aberdeen by the minister of one of the kirks in that city; but the minister’s co-pastor had prepossessed the magistrates against him, so that when he arrived, they refused to let him preach in the kirk-yard. They had, however, sufficient curiosity to attend when he officiated in his friend’s pulpit; the congregation was very large, and, in Whitefield’s own words, “hghl and life fled all around.” In the afternoon it was the other pastor’s turn: he began his

MEMOIRS OF WHITEFIEI^D. 261

prayers as usual; but, in the midst of them, he named Whiteheld personally, whom he knew to be then present, and entreated the Lord to forgive the dishonor that had been [)ut upon him, when that man was suffered to preach in that pulpit. Not satisfied with this, he renewed the attack in his sermon, reminded his congregation that this person was a curate of the Church of England, and quoted some passages from his first printed discourses, which he said were grossly Arminian. “Most of the congregation,” says Whitefield, “seemed surprised and chagrined, especially the good natured colleague; who, immediately after sermon, without consulting me in the least, stood up, and gave notice diat Mr. Whitefield would preach in about half an hour. The interval being so short, the magistrates returned into the session house, and the congregation patiently waited, big with expectation of hearing my resentment. At the time appointed, I went up, and took no other notice of the good man’s ill-timed zeal, than to observe, in some part of my discourse, that if the good old gentleman had seen some of my later writings, wherein 1 had corrected several of my former mistakes, he would not have expressed himself in such strong terms. The people, being thus diverted from controversy with man, were deeply impressed with what they heard from the word of God. All was hushed, and more than solemn. And on the morrow the magistrates sent for me, expressed themselves quite concerned at the treatment I had met with, and begged I would accept of the freedom of the city.”

This triumph Whitefield obtained, as much by that perfect self command, which he always possessed in public, as by his surprising oratory. But wherever he could obtain a hearing, his preaching was triumphant, and his success in Scotland was, in some respects, greater than it had yet been in England. “Glory be to God,” he says,” he is doing great things here. I walk in the continual sunshine of his countenance. Congregations consist of many thousands. Never did I see so many Bibles, nor people look into them, when I am expounding, with such attention. Plenty of tears flow from the hearers’ eyes. I preach twice daily, and expound at private houses at night; and am employed in speaking to souls under distress great part of the day. Every morning I have a constant levee of wounded souls, many of whom are quite slain by the law. At seven in the morning (this was at Edinburgh) we have a lecture in the fields, attended not only by the common people, but persons of great rank. I have reason to think several of the latter sort are coming to Jesus. I am only afraid lest people should idolize the instrument, and not look enough to the glorious Jesus, in whom alone I desire to glory. I walk continu-

2G2 MEMOIRS OF WHITEFIELD.

ally in the comfort of the Holy Ghost. The love of Christ quite strikes me dumb, O grace, grace! let that be my song.” In Scotland it was that he first found access to people of rank. “Saints,” says he, “have been stirred up and edified; and many others, I believe, are translated from darkness to light, and from the kingdom of Satan to the kingdom of God. The good that has been done is inexpressible. I am intimate with three noblemen and several ladies of quality, who have a great lildng for the things of God. I am now writing in an earl’s house, surrounded with fine furniture; but, glory be to free grace, my soul is in love only with Jesus.”

His exertions increased with his success. “Yesterday,” he says, “I preached three times, and lectured at night. This day Jesus has enabled me to preach seven times; once in the church, twice at the girl’s hospital, once in the park, once at the old people’s hospital, and afterwards twice at a private house; notwithstanding, I am now as fresh as when T arose in the morning. ‘They that Avait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount on wings like eagles.’ It would delight your soul to see the effects of the power of God. Both in the church and park the Lord was with us. The girls in the hospital were exceedingly affected, and so were the standers by. One of the mistresses told me, she is now awakened in the morning by the voice of prayer and praise; and the master of the boys says, that they meet together every night to sing and pray; and when he goes to their rooms at night, to see if all be safe, he generally disturbs them at their devotions. The presence of God at the old people’s hospital, was really very wonderful. The Holy Spirit seemed to come down like a mighty rushing wind. The mourning of the people was like the weeping in the valley of Hadad-Rimmon. They appear more and more hungry. Every day I hear of some fresh good wrought by the power of God. I scarce know how to leave Scotland.”

The representation thus given by this remarkable man, of the effect which his preaching produced upon all ranks and descriptions of people, is not exaggerated. Dr. Franklin has justly observed, that it would have been fortunate for his reputation if he had left no written works; his talents would then have been estimated by the effect which they are known to have produced; for, on this point, there is the evidence of witnesses whose credibility cannot be disputed. Whitefield’s writings aftbrd merely the measure of his knowledge and of his intellect, but not of his genius as a preacher. His printed sermons, instead of being, as is usual, the most elaborate and finished discourses of their author, have indeed the disadvanlage of being precisely those upon which the least care had been bestowed. This may be easily explained.

“By hearing him often,” says Franklin, “I came to distinguish easily between sermons newly composed, and those which he had often preached in the course of his travels. His delivery of the latter was so improved by frequent repetition, that every accent, every emphasis, every modulation of voice, was so perfectly well turned, and well placed, that, without being interested in the subject, one could not help being pleased with the discourse: a pleasure of much the same kind with that received from an excellent piece of music. Tlxis is an advantage itinerant preachers have over those who are stationary, as the latter cannot well improve their delivery of a sermon by so many rehearsals.” It was a great advantage, but it was not the only one, nor the greatest vdiich he derived from repeating his discourses, and reciting instead of reading them. Had they been delivered from a written copy, one delivery would have been like the last; the paper would have operated like a spell, from which he could not depart — invention sleeping, while the utterance followed the eye. But when he had nothing before him except the audience whom he was addressing, the judgment and the imagination, as well as the memory, were called forth. Those parts were omitted which had been felt to come feebly from the tongue, and fall heavily upon the ear, and their place was supplied by matter newly laid in in the course of his studies, or fresh from the feeling of the moment. They who lived with him, could trace him in his sermons to the book which he had last been reading, or the subject which had recently taken his attention. But the salient points of his oratory were not prepared passages, — they were bursts of passion, like jets from a Geyser, when the spring is in full play.

The theatrical talent which he displayed in boyhood, manifested itself strongly in his oratory. When he was about to preach, whether it was from a pulpit, or a table in the streets, or a rising ground, he appeared with a solemnity of manner, and an anxious expression of countenance, that seemed to show how deeply he was possessed with a sense of the importance of what he was about to say. His elocution was perfect. They who heard him most frequently, could not remember that he ever stumbled at a word, or hesitated for want of one. He never faltered, unless when the feeling to which he had wrought himself overcame him, and then his speech was interrupted by a flow of tears. Sometimes he would appear to lose all self-command, and weep exceedingly, and stamp loudly and passionately; and sometimes the emotion of his mind exhausted him, and the beholders felt a momentary apprehension even for his life. And, indeed, it is said, that the effect of his vehemence upon his bodily frame was tremendous; that he usually vomited after he had preached, and sometimes discharged, in this manner, a considerable quantity of blood. But this was when the effort was over, and nature was left at leisure to relieve herself While lie was on duty, he controlled all sense of infirmity or pain, and made his advantage of the passion to which he had given way. “You blame me for weeping,” he would say, “but how can I help it, when you will not weep for yourselves, though your immortal souls are upon the vergQ of destruction, and, for aught 1 kirow, you are hearing “our last sermon, and may never more have an opportunity to have Christ offered to you!”

Sometimes he would set before his congregation the agony of our Savior, as though the scene was actually before them. ‘• Look yonder!” he would say, stretching out his hand, and pointing as he spoke, “what is that I see 7 L is my agonizing Lord! Hark, hark! do you not hear? — O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me! nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done!” This he introduced frequently in his sermons; and one who lived with him says, the effect was not destroyed by repetition; even to those who Imew what was coming, it came as forcibly as if they had never heard it before. In this respect it was like tine stage acting; and indeed Whitefield indulged in a histrionic manner of preaching, which would have been offensive if it had not been rendered admirable by his natural gracefulness and inimitable power. Sometimes, at the close of a sermon, he would personate a judge about to perform the last aA^’ful part of his office. With his eyes full of tears, and an emotion that made his speech falter, after a pause which kept the whole audience in breathless expectation of what was to come, he would say, “I am now going to put on my condemning cap. Sinner, I must do it: I must pronounce sentence upon you!” and then, in a tremendous strain of eloquence, describing the eternal punishment of the wicked, he Tecited the words of Christ, “Depart from me ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.” W^hfen he spoke of St. Peter, how, after the cock crew, he went out and wept bitterly, he had a fold of his gown ready, in which he hid his face.

Perfect as it was, histrionism like this would have produced no lasting effect upon the mind, had it not been for the unaffected earnestness, and the indubitable sincerity of the preacher, which equally characterized his manner, whether he rose to the height of passion in his discourse, or won the attention of the motley crowd by the introduction of familiar stories and illustrations, adapted to the meanest* capacity. To such digressions his disposition led him, which was naturally inclined to a comic playfulness. Minds of a certain power wi sometimes express their stronsest feelings with a levity at which formalists are shocked, and which dull men are wholly unable to understand. But language, which, when coldly repeated, might seem to border upon irreverence and burlesque, has its effect in popular preaching, when the intention of the preacher is perfectly understood; it is suited to the great mass of the people, it is felt by them when better things would have produced no impression, and it is borne away when wiser arguments would have been forgotten. There was another, and more uncommon way in which Whitefield’s peculiar talent sometimes was indulged; he could direct his discourse towards an individual so skillfully, that the congregation had no suspicion of any particular purport in that part of the sermon; while the person at whom it was aimed, felt it, as it was directed, in its full force. There was sometimes a degree of sportiveness.t almost akin to mischief in his humor.

Remarkable cases are related of the manner in which he impressed his hearers. The man at Exetert is an instance, who stood with stones in his pocket, and one in his hand, ready to throw at him; but he dropped it before the sermon was far advanced, and going up to him, after the preaching was over, he said, “Sir, I came to hear you with an intention to break your head; but God, through your ministry, has given me a broken heart.” A ship builder was once asked, what he thought of him. “Think!” he replied, I tell you, sir, every Sunday

* Wesley says of him in his Journal, “how wise is God in giving different talents to diaerent preachers! Even the little improprieties, both of his language and manner, were a means of profiting many who would not have been touched by a more correct discourse, or a more calm and regular manner of speaking.” St. Augustine somewhere says, that is the best key which opens the door: quid! enim prodest cU/cls mirea si aperire quod volumus non potest? ant quod obest lignea, si hoc prodest, quando nihil quesrimus nisi patere quod clausum est?

t Mr. Winter relates a curious anecdote of his preaching at a maid servant, who had displeased him by some negligence in the morning. “In the evening,” says the writer, “before the” family retired to rest, I found her under great dejection, the reason of which I did not apprehend; for it did not strike me tKat, in exeraplifying a conduct inconsistent with the christian’s professed fidelity to his Redeemer, he wjis drawing it from remissness of duty in a living character; but she felt it so sensibly, as to be greatly distressed by it, until he relieved her mind “by his usually amiable deportment. The next day, being about to leave town, he called out to her, ’ farewell:’ she did not make her appearance, which he remarked to a female friend at dinner, who replied, ‘Sir, you have exceedingly wounded poor Betty.’ This excited in him a hearty laugh: and when I shut the coach door upon him, he said, ‘Be sure and remember me to Betty; tell her the account is settled, and that I have nothing more against her.’”

t See p. 122.

266 MEMOIRS OF WillTKFlELD.

that I go to my parish church, I can build a ship from stem to stern under the sermon; but were it to save my soul, under Mr. Whitefield, I could not lay a single plank.” Hume pronounced him the most ingenious preacher he had ever heard; and said, it was worth wfiile to go twenty miles to hear him. But, perhaps, the greatest proof of his persuasive powers was, when he drew from Franklin’s pocket the money which that clear, cool reasoner had determined not to give: it was for the Orphan-house at Savannah. “I did not,” says the philosopher, “disapprove of the design; but as Georgia was then destitute of materials and workmen, and it was proposed to send them from Philadelphia, at a great expense, I thought it would have been better to have built the house at Philadelphia, and brought the children to it. This I advised; but he was resolute in his first project, rejected my council, and I therefore refused to contribute. I happened, soon after, to attended one of his sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket, a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded, I began to soften, and concluded to give the copper; another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and determined me to give the silver; and he finished so admirably, that I emptied my pocket into the collector’s dish, gold and all.”*

The manner in which he once turned a thunder storm to his purpose, has been thus narrated. Before he commenced his sermon, long, darkening columns crowded the bright, sunny sky of the morning, and swept their dull shadows over the building, in fearful augury of the storm.

His text was, “Strive to enter in at the strait gate; for many, I say unto you, shall seek to enter in, and shall not be able.” “See that emblem of human life,” said he, pointing to a shadow that was flitting across the floor. ‘• It passed for a moment, and concealed the brightness of heaven from our view; — but it was gone. And where will ye be, my hearers, when your fives have passed away like that dark cloud? Oh, my dear friends, I see thousands sitting attentive, with their eyes fixed

* “At this sermon,” continues Franklin, “there was also one of our club, who, being of ray sentiments respecting the building in Georgia, and suspecting a collection might be intended, had, by precaution, emptied his pockets before he came from home: towards the conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong inclination to give, and applied to a neighbor, who stood near him, to lend him some money for the purpose. The request was fortunately made to perhaps the cnly man in the company who had the firmness not to be affected by the preacher. His answer was, ‘At any other time, friend Hopkinson, I would lend to thee freely, but not now, for thee seems to me to oe out of thy right senses.’”

MniMOIRS OF WlllTRI^IKt,!). 207

on the poor, unworthy prcaclior. In a lew clays, we shall all meet at the judgment seat of Christ. We shall form a part of that vast assembly that will gather before the throne; and every eye will behold the Judge. With a voice whose call you must abide and answer, he will inquire whether on earth ye strove to enter in at the strait gate; whether you were supremely devoted to God; whether your hearts were al)sorbed in him. My blood runs cold when I think how many of you will then seek to enter in, and shall not be able. Oli, what plea can you make before the Judge of the whole earth? Can you say it has been your whole endeavor to mortify the flesh, with its affections and lusts? that your life has been one long effort to do the will of God ‘I No! you must answer, I made myself easy in the world by flattering myself that all would end well; but I have deceived my own soul, and am lost.

“You, O false and hollow christian, of what avail will it be that you have done many things; that you have read much in the sacred word; that you have made long prayers; that you have attended religious duties, and appeared holy in the eyes of men? What will all this be, if, instead of lovmg Him supremely, you have been supposing you should exalt yourself in heaven by acts really polluted and unholy?

“And you, rich man, wherefore do you hoard your silver? wherefore count the price you have received for him whom you every day crucify in your love of gain .^ Why, that, when you are too poor to buy a drop of cold water, your beloved son may be rolled to hell in his chariot, pillowed and cushioned around him.”

His eye gradually hghted up, as he proceeded, till, towards the close, it seemed to sparkle with celestial fire.

“Oh, sinners!” he exclaimed, “by all your hopes of happiness, I beseech you to repent. Let not the wrath of God be awakened. Let not the fires of eternity be kindled against you. See there!” said he, pointing to the lightning, which played on the corner of the pulpit — “‘Tis a glance from the angry eye of Jehovah! Hark!” continued he, raising his finger in a listening attitude, as the distant thunder grew louder and louder, and broke in one tremendous crash over the building. “It was the voice of the Almighty as he passed by in his anger!”

As the sound died away, he covered his face with his hands, and knelt beside his pulpit, apparently lost in inward and intense prayer. The storm passed rapidly away, and the sun, bursting forth in his might, threw across the heavens a magnificent arch of peace. Rising, and pointing to the beautiful object, he exclaimed, “Look upon the rainbow, and praise him that made it. Very beautiful it is in the brightness thereof. It compasseth the heavens about with glory; and the hands of the Most High have b( aded it.”

No wonder that such a preacher should be admired and followed in a country where the habits of the people were devotional. On his second visit to Scotland, he was met on the shore at Leith by multitudes, weeping and blessing him, and they followed his coach to Edinburgh, pressing to welcome him when he alighted, and to hold him in their arms. Seats, with awnings, were erected in the park, in the form of an amphitheater, for his preaching. Several youths left their parents and masters to follow him, as his servants and children in the gospel; but he was wise enough to thow them their error, and send them back. The eflect which he produced was overwhelming. At Cambuslang it exceeded a?’v thing which he had ever witnessed in his career. “I preached at two,*’ he says,” to a vast collection of people, and at six in the evening, and again at nine. Such a commotion, surely, never was heard of, especially at eleven at night. For about an hour and a half there was such weeping, so many falling into deep distress, and expressing it various ways, as is inexpressible. The people seem to be slain by scores. They are carried off, and come into the house, like soldiers wounded in and carried off from a field of battle. Their cries and agonies are exceedingly affecting. Mr. M. preached, after I had ended, till past one in the morning, and then could scarcely persuade them to depart. All night, in the fields, might be heard the voice of prayer and praise. Some young ladies were found by a gentlewoman praising God at break of day: she went and joined with them.” Soon afterwards he returned there, to assist at the sacrament. “Scarce ever,” he says, “was such a night seen in Scotland. There were, undoubtedly, upwards of twenty thousand persons. Two tents were set up, and the holy sacrament was administered in the fields. “When I began to serve a table, the power of God was felt by numbers; but the people crowded so upon me, that I was obliged to desist, and go to preach at one of the tents, while the ministers served the rest of the tables. God was with them and with his people. There was preaching all day, by one or another; and in the evening, when the sacrament was over, at the request of the ministers, I preached to the whole congregation. I preached about an hour and a half. Surely it was a lime much to be remembered. On Monday morning 1 preached again to near as many; but such a universal stir I never saw before. The motion fled as swift as lightning from one end of the auditory to another. You might have seen thousands bathed in tears: some at the same time wringing their hands, others ahuost swooning, and others crying out and mourning over a pierced Savior.”

All this, if we are to conlide in the testimony of eye-witnesses, conveys but a faint and inadequate impression of the astounding power which accompanied his eloquence. Through it all, we discover a lively imagination, which made people think they saw what he described; an action still more lively, if possible, by which, while every accent of his voice spoke to the ear, every feature of his face, every motion of his hands, and every gesture, spoke to the eye; so that the most dissipated and thoughtless found their attention involuntarily fixed, and the dullest and most ignorant could not but understand. He had likewise a certain elevation of character which raised him equally above praise. and censure, and added great authority to whatever he said. The natural language of this christian fortitude, we have in one of his letters — “the Lord only knows how he will be pleased to dispose of me — great afflictions I am sure of having — and a sudden death, blessed be God, will not be terrible — I know that my Redeemer liveth. I every day long to see him, that I may be free from the remainder of sin, and enjoy him without interruption for ever.”

But what was, perhaps, the most important of all, he had a heart deeply exercised in all the social, as well as the pious and religious affections, and was at the same time most remarlcably communicative, by which means he was peculiarly fitted to awaken like feelings in others, and to sympathize with every one that had them.

This last, some have thought, was the distinguishing part of his character. It was certainly a distinguishing trait in it. In his journals and letters, an impartial reader will find instances of it almost in every page; such as lively gratitude to God in the first place, and to all whom God had used as instruments of good to him; sincere love in dealing so plainly with his correspondents about the interests of their souls; frequent and particular intercession for his friends, his enemies, and all mankind; great delight in the society of christian acquaintances; many very sorrowful partings, and joyful meetings with his friends; tender-heartedness to the afilicted; his pleasure in procuring and administering a seasonable supply to the indigent; and condescension to people of the lowest rank, to instruct and converse with them for their good, in as kind and sociable a manner as if he had been their brother or intimate friend. These are manifest proofs that he had a heart easily susceptible of every humane, tender, and compassionate feeling. And this was certainly a great mean of enabling him so strongly to affect the hearts of others.

270 MF-Morns of wniTKriELD.

Had his natural talents for oratory l)e(ii employed in secular affairs, and been somewhat more improved by the refinements of art, and the embellishment of erudition, it is probable they would soon have advanced him to distinguished wealth and renown. Bat his sole ambition was to serve a crucified Savior, in the ministry of the gospel. And being early convinced of” the great injury that has been done to Christianity, by a bigoted spirit, he insisted not upon the peculiar tenets of a party; “for,” says he, in one of his letters, “I love all that love our Lord Jesus Christ.” In another, “Oh! how do I long to see bigotry and party zeal taken away, and all the Lord’s servants more knit together!” Again, “I wish all names among the saints of God, were swallowed up in that one of christian!” But upon the universally interesting doctrines of holy scripture, concerning the ruin of mankind by sin, and their recovery by divine grace; doctrines, the truth of which, he himself had deeply felt; to make men sensible of the misery of their alienation from God, and of the necessity of justification by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; of regeneration by the Holy Spirit; and of a life of devotedness to God, was the principal scope of all his discourses. “The only Methodism, I desire to know,” says he, “is a holy method of dying to ourselves, and living to God.” By this description he was far from intending to confine true religion to the exercises of devotion. By “living to God,” he meant a constant endeavor after conformity to the divine will in all things. “For,” says he, in another place, “it is a great mistake to suppose religion consists only in saying our prayers. Every christian lies under the necessity to have some particular calling, whereby he may be a useful member of the society to which he belongs. A man is no farther holy, than he is relatively holy, and he only will adorn the gospel of our J^ord Jesus Christ in all things, who is careful to perform all the civil offices of life, with a single eye to God’s glory, and from a principle of lively faith in Jesus Christ our Savior. This is the morality which we preach. He used also to give this definition of true religion, “That it is a universal morality founded upon the love of God, and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.” Licentiousness and luxury, and all sorts of time wasting and dissipatins: amusements, how fashionable soever, he constantly inveighed against. These were the topics on which he employed his eloquence.

But not to dwell any longer on his accomplishments as an orator, and the excellent purposes to which, through the grace of God, he devoted them; one thing remains to be mentioned, of an infinitely higher order than any human powers whatever: and that is, the power of God, which so remarkably accompa-MEMOIRS OV WinTKFIELI). 271

med the labors of his servant, and without which, both scripture and experience teach us, that all external means, however excellent, are ineffectual and vain. It is here Whitelield is much to be envied, were it lawful to envy any man. When we consider the multitudes that were not only awakened, but brought under lasting religious impressions by his ministry! and the multitudes that were wrought upon in the same manner by the ministry of others, excited by his example, both in Great Britain and America, we are naturally led into the same sentiments with Mr. Wesley, in his funeral sermon; “What an honor has it y)leased God to put upon his faithful servant! Have we read or heard of any person since the apostles, who testified the gospel of the grace of God, through so widely extended a space, through so large a part of the habitable world? Have we read, or heard of any person, who called so many thousands, so many myriads of sinners to repentance? Above all, have we read, or heard of any, who has been a blessed instrument in his hand, of bringing so many siimers from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God?”

This excellent character, joined to talents so extraordinary, and to labors, which God was pleased to bless with almost unequaled success, was shaded with some infirmities. And what else could be expected in the present condition of humanity? These have been sufficiently laid open in the preceding narrative of his life. And it ought to be observed, that as there was something very amiable in the frankness and unreservedness which prevented his concealing them; so through his openness to conviction, his teachableness to confess and correct his mistakes, they became still fewer and smaller, and decreased continually, as he advanced in knowledge and experience.

In his letters, we find the following remarkable passages: “May God reward you for watching over my soul. It is difficult, I believe, to go through the fiery trial of popularity and applause, untainted. When I am unwilling to be told of my faults, correspond with me no more. If I know any thing of my heart, I love those most who are most faithful to me in this respect; henceforward, dear sir, I beseech you, by the mercies of God in Christ Jesus, spare me not. We must be helps to each other on this side eternity. Nothing gives me more comfort, next to the assurance of the eternal continuance of God’s love, than the pleasing reflection of having so many christian friends to watch with my soul. I wish they would smite me friendly, and reprove me oftener than they do. I rejoice that you begin to know yourself If possible, Satan will make us think more highly of ourselves than we ought to think. I can tell this by fatal experience. It is not sudden flashes of joy, but having the humility of Jesus Christ, that must denominate us christians. If we hate reproof, we are so far from being true followers of the Lamb of God, that in the opinion of the wisest of men we are brutish. O my dear brother, still continue faithful to my soul — do not hate me in your heart — in any wise reprove me. You need no apology for your plain dealing. I love those best, who deal most sincerely with me. Whatever errors I have been, or shall be guilty of in my ministry, I hope the Lord will show me, and give me grace to amend.”

It would be unjust to his memory not to take notice, upon this occasion, of that uniformity of sentiment, which runs through all Ins sermons and writings, after he was thoroughly enlightened in the truth. Indeed, when he first set out in the ministry, his youth and inexperience led him into many expressions which were contrary to sound doctrine, and which made many of the sermons he first printed, justly exceptionable: but reading, experience, and a deeper knowledge of his own heart, convinced him of his errors, and upon all occasions he avowed his adherence to the thirty-nine articles of the Church of England, and the standards of the Church of Scotland, as expressly founded on the word of God. He loved his friend, but he would not part with a grain of sacred truth for the brother of his heart. Thus we see him constrained to write and print against the Arminian tenets of Wesley, whom he loved in the bowels of Christ. And it appears from several other tracts in his works, that he neglected no opportunity of stepping forth as a bold champion, in defence of that faith which was once delivered to the saints.

“He who engages himself to fight the battles of the Lord,” says a minister of the gospel, “has need of uncommon strength and irresistible arms; and if he be destitute of one or the other, he vainly expects to stand in the evil day.” Whitefield was exposed to a vast variety of dangers, and beset with innumerable enemies. His whole life was one continued scene of warfare, in which he wrestled sometimes with visible, and at other times with invisible adversaries. He saw it to be absolutely necessary to be furnished with weapons of celestial temper in this spiritual warfare; and he put on “the whole armor of God,” with a determined resolution never to put it off, till his last conflict should be decided. This sacred panoply enabled him to grapple with his strongest enemies; and made him truly invincible in the cause of godliness.

It becomes all who are called to the sacred office of the ministry, to be faithful in the discharge of that work committed to them. They are not to be as “sullen lamps, enlightening only themselves;” but as conspicuous suns, enlightening and animating all around them. Whitefield entered upon the duties of his vocation with an extraordinary degree of earnestness and zeal. He saw the difficulties of his situation, and the reproaches to which he should be exposed, by a conscientious discharge of his duty; but, persuaded of the importance of his charge, and concvrned for the welfare of immortal souls upon the very verge of destruction, he set his face like a flint against all who might oppose the truth or grace of God. Whatever his hand found to do, in any part of the sacred vineyard, it may be truly said, that he did it with all hi ??iight. As a steward of the manifold afrace of God, he faithfully dispensed the word of life, according as every man had need. He was a laborious workman in his Lord’s vineyard. Listant in season and out of season, he diligently performed the work of an evangelist, and lost no opportunity of declaring the truths of the gospel. It appears from a little memorandum book, wherein he minuted the times and places of his ministerial labors, that he preached upwards of eighteen thousand sermons in the course of his ministry, which included thirty-four years and a quarter; which was somewhat more than five himdred sermons a year. The day preceding his death, he expressed a great desire to enter his eternal rest; at the same time saying, “Lord, thou knowest I am not weary of thy work, though I am weary in it!” Every duty of his sacred vocation, this apostolic man performed, with an earnestness and zeal, of which but a very imperfect idea can be given. Never weary of well doing, he counted it his greatest privilege “to spend and be spent” in ministerhig to the church of God, and in the service of which he sacrificed his strength, his health, and his life.

He was “a burning and shining light” — a Boanerges, and yet a Barnabas in the church of God. Whether the enemies of God appeared in the splendor of riches, or in the meanness of poverty; whether they were distinguished by their erudition, or despicable by their ignorance, he marshaled Eigainst them the most terrible denunciations of the Almighty’s wrath, Unawed either by the majesty of kings, or the madness of the people, he was equally fitted to appear with Moses at an impious court, or to stand with Stephen in a turbulent assembly. The fidelity with which he performed this part of his duty, is worthy of admiration.

But while he was faithful, in proclaiming “the day of vengeance” to the wicked, he neglected not “to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that were bound.” In the discharge of this favorite part of his office, he was eqiictUy faithful as in the former. He shunned not to declare the whole counsel of God. He made Jesus the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and ending of all his mim’strations. He explored the intricate mazes, and unlocl<ed the secret recesses of the human heart. He was solicitously concerned to have his hearers thoroughly convinced that they were sinful, lost creatures, exposed to the everlasting vengeance of a righteous God. He displayed the infinitely tender love, and free grace of Jesus, in dying for apostate man. He pointed the sinner to the Lamb of God, whose blood cleanseth from all sin; whose merits are infinite, and able to save to the uttermost; and whose righteousness is sufficient to justify the ungodly. Thus, with all possible plainness and fidelity, this apostolic preacher administered the word of God, in his day and generation, whether it was a word of threatening to the careless and impenitent, or a word of consolation to the fearful and afflicted.

The inexpressible concern which he felt for the enlargement of the kingdom of Christ, and the salvation of immortal souls induced him to go forth into the highways and hedges, to publish the gospel; and anxious to do “the work of an evangelist” with all possible fidelity, he was not ashamed, that every hour and every place should bear testimony to the aflfectionate zeal, with which he exhorted the ignorant, the careless, and the abandoned, to “flee from the wrath to come.” Considering himself as a minister of the church of Christ, he complained of no hardships, nor thought any difficulty too great to be encountered, in winning souls to Christ. He was careful to act, in every instance, consistently with his high profession. He preferred the path of duty before the lap of repose; he listened not to the suggestion of fear, nor regarded the dictates of worldly prudence; and he counted neither ease, nor interest, nor reputation, nor even life itself, dear to him. He strove to “finish his course with joy.”

Such was this favored servant of God, Well may he be our exemplar. And, as a well nigh apostolic unction, fervor, and energy possessed him, so may his mantle fall on many, who shall behold his character reflected through these records.