By REV. D. M. MACDONALD, Edinburgh.
(Continued from page 303.)
When the Gospel is making progress Satan will do his utmost to oppose it, and this is what Mr. Whitefield was now to realise. Churches were closed against him. On approaching Bath and Bristol he found that his coming had provoked alarm, but a door was opened for him which he took advantage of. Kingswood, near Bristol, was without a church, a rough colliery district whose inhabitants were living like savages, absolutely cut off not merely from the middle class but also from the other sections of the working classes. Here he preached his first real sermon in the open air from Matthew v. 1, 2 and 3, part of our Lord’s sermon on the mount! His first congregation was two hundred. His second sermon to the colliers brought two thousand together. His fame had now spread and eventually twenty thousand people hung upon those lips that were touched with heavenly fire. Thousands appeared to be deeply affected and many found afterwards that they had been soundly converted. Accompanied by his two staunch friends, William Seward and Howell Harris, he arrived in London in April, 1739, and when refused the use of Islington Church he preached in the churchyard. According to tradition, there were several notable persons in the audience. He now seemed to feel that it was his duty to preach in other parts of London, so we find him in Woodford, on the edge of the city. It was a favourite spot for shows, but there was no disorder during the service. No ruffian raised a shout, no disturber meddled with his neighbour as the text, “Watch, therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour in which the Son of Man cometh,” flew all around, everyone hearing it. His experience there encouraged him to do the same thing in Kennington Common. It was notorious as a gathering place for the worst characters in the city. In this place the great preacher took his stand many times. On the first occasion it is computed that there were no less than thirty thousand people present. He said himself, “The wind being for me, carried the voice to the extreme part of the congregation. All stood attentive and joined in the Psalm and Lord’s Prayer most regularly. I scarce ever preached more quietly in any church.” All said it was never seen in this wise before. The singing of those vast audiences could be heard two miles off and Whitefield’s voice was said to have had a range of one mile. Soon the general population of London, realising what was happening, took opportunities for themselves of hearing this wonderful preacher. In between his exhausting services in the open air he expounded Scriptures at innumerable smaller gatherings and dealt with hundreds of souls who sought guidance.
At this juncture he had resolved to return to Georgia to attend to the affairs of his orphanage there, and arrived at Lewistown, 150 miles from Philadelphia, reaching the city in October, 1739. Here he came into contact with one of America’s most distinguished sons—Benjamin Franklin, who was a publisher, and arranged to print his sermons and journals. The pulpits of Philadelphia were opened immediately to him, but the congregations were too great for any building to hold, and he was offered the steps of the Court House for an open-air platform. His powerful appeals roused great enthusiasm, and Franklin was a constant and delighted hearer.
Collections were taken for his Orphan House, and when he told Franklin his plans the latter urged him to build an orphanage at Philadelphia and to bring the children to it. Whitefield refused to do that, and Franklin then decided not to give the smallest donation. “I happened,” he says, “some time afterwards to attend 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 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 collection dish, gold and all.” He had not reckoned on his new friend’s persuasive oratory.
Mr. Whitefield now proceeded to New York and, being denied the use of the churches there, took to the fields again, and many came to hear his message. Very soon, however, the Rev. Ebenezer Pemberton, the minister of the Presbyterian Church, offered him the use of his meeting-house, and in it he preached for several days to increasing audiences. One eye-witness at these services has left the following record: “I never saw in my life such attentive audiences as Mr. Whitefield’s in New York. All he said was demonstrated by life and power. The people’s eyes and ears hung upon his words. He is a man of middle stature, of a slender body, of a fair complexion, and of a comely appearance. He is of a sprightly cheerful temper and acts and moves with great agility and life. The endowments of his mind are uncommon, his wit is quick and piercing, his imagination lively and florid and, as far as I can discern, both are under the direction of a solid judgment. He has a most ready memory, and I think speaks entirely without notes. He has a clear and musical voice and a wonderful command of it. He uses much gesture but with great propriety. Every accent of his voice, every motion of his body speaks; and both are natural and unaffected. He has a great mastery of words but studies much plainness of speech.”
His return to Philadelphia was a triumphal progress through various places where crowds gathered to hear him. His close association with Presbyterians affected his theological thinking, and their Calvinism confirmed his Calvinistic position. With this background, he firmly opposed the Arminianism of John Wesley.
In due time he arrived at Savannah and proceeded to put his scheme for an Orphan House into effect. The place chosen was called Bethesda, and it became America’s oldest charity. He was full of passionate zeal for the spiritual welfare of his “family.” He continually yearned over their souls, and one may well believe that he prayed earnestly and regularly for them. In addition to large sums bequeathed for the support of the orphans he gave himself over £3,000—a sure guarantee of his honesty in face of false charges made against him and proof of his heroic self-sacrifice. For 30 years, many children—boys and girls were clothed, educated, maintained and suitably provided for. Whitefield was always confident of the Divine guidance and blessing in this work. When lying ill in Bermuda he found that God had raised up friends for his orphans even there. A group of gentlemen in the island planned to discharge for him all arrears upon the house, and Whitefield writes in his journal: “Thanks be to Thy name, O God! Thou knowest all things; Thou knowest that I want to owe no man anything but love; and provide for Bethesda after my decease. Thou hast promised that Thou will fulfil the desire of them that fear Thee. I believe, Lord; help my unbelief that Thou wilt fulfil this desire of my soul.” That desire was fulfilled.
On September, 1740, he landed at Newport, Rhode Island, and preached to thousands of people. From there he went to Boston and had a service in the open air with an audience of 15,000 listening to him. On the following day 6,000 greeted him at another meeting-place! He continued his itinerary to Ipswich, Hampton, Portsmouth and Newbury, addressing immense gatherings and causing many to feel their need of salvation.
The following extract from a sermon published in Boston shows his overwhelming power in the pulpit and his intensely human appeal. 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 that was approaching. “See that emblem of human life,” said he, as he pointed to a flitting shadow. It paused for a moment and concealed the brightness of heaven from our view; but it is gone. And where will you be, my hearers, when your lives have passed away like that dark cloud? Oh, dear friends, I see thousands sitting attentive with their eyes fixed on the poor unworthy preacher. In a few days we shall all meet at the judgment seat of Christ. We shall form part of that vast assembly which will gather before His throne. Every eye will behold the Judge. With a voice whose call you must abide and answer He will inquire whether on earth you strove to enter in at the strait gate; whether you were supremely devoted to God; whether your hearts were absorbed in Him. My blood runs cold when I think how many of you will then seek to enter in, and shall not be able. O what plea can you make before the Judge of the whole earth? Can you say it has been your whole endeavour to mortify the flesh with its affections and lusts? No! You must answer, I made myself easy in the world, flattering myself that all would end well; but I have deceived my own soul, and am lost. And you rich men, 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 into hell in his chariot pillioned and cushioned.
“O sinner! 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 the impassioned preacher, pointing to a flash of lightning, “it is a glance from the angry eye of Jehovah! Hark,” continued he, raising a finger in a listening attitude as the thunder broke in a tremendous crash, “it was the voice of the Almighty as He passed by in His anger!”
As the sound died away Whitefield covered his face with his hands and fell on his knees, apparently lost in prayer. The storm passed rapidly by and the sun, bursting forth, threw across the heavens the magnificent arch of peace. Rising and pointing to it, he cried, “Look upon the rainbow and praise Him who made it. Very beautiful it is in the brightness thereof. It compasseth the heaven about with glory and the hands of the Most High have bended it.”
A great awakening continued in the city for some time after this, the local ministers being inspired with new faith, life and power. One of them was wont to say that more came to him in one week in deep concern about their souls than had come in the whole 24 years of his preaching ministry. Ministers, in addition to their ordinary services, preached in private houses nearly every night. Chapels were continually crowded. It was stated in a letter to England that lectures flourished, Sabbaths were joyous, churches increased, and ministers had new life and spirit in their work.
At length Whitefield reached Northampton, the home of that great divine, Jonathan Edwards, the centre of the revival of New England religion. A mighty outpouring of the Holy Spirit accompanied the labours of Mr. Edwards, so that scarcely any were left unconcerned about eternal realities. The town seemed to be full of the presence of God. Whitefield helped to make the great awakening greater still, and many would be established in the faith by his comforting expositions on the consolations and privileges of believers.
The effect of the evangelist’s labours on American Christianity was widespread and enormously beneficial. He helped to spread the revival in the east to the Presbyterian Churches of the Middle States, and in Virginia the reading of his printed sermons especially led to the founding of the Presbyterian Church of that State.
From Northampton he made his way back to New York with great difficulty and sinking of heart due perhaps to difficulties he had experienced there previously. One Sabbath morning he was depressed and, before going to the evening service, he could only cast himself on the ground before God, confessing himself a miserable sinner and wondering that God could be so gracious to such a wretch. On his way to the meeting-house he became weaker, and when he entered the pulpit he would rather have been silent than have spoken. Many of God’s sent messengers have had that experience. The sermon that followed was marvellous in its effect. Loud crying and weeping arose all over the building. Many were so overcome as to fall exhausted into the arms of friends. Whitefield himself was so carried away that he spoke literally till he could speak no more. Taking farewell of his hearers, he passed on to Staten Island, and there also the heavenly fire fell upon the crowds. Here one who had accompanied him just from friendship rather than from religious interest, succumbed to his power and was so struck down and overpowered physically that his strength quite left him; and for a night he could scarcely move. From that moment he lived as a fervid Christian to his life’s end!
(To be continued.)