CHAPTER IV.

GEORGE WHITEFIELD.

Whitefield's Mental Conflicts-His Ascetic Errors-His Conversion He begins to preach-He preaches in the Metropolis-Remarkable Effects of his Sermons-His Powers as an Orator-He embarks for America-His Return to England.

DURING the absence of the Wesleys in America, George Whitefield was the presiding spirit of the "Holy Club" at Oxford. He preceded the Wesleys in obtaining the peace of mind, and "assurance of faith," which they had sought together so arduously before they parted. But, like them, he passed through an ordeal of agonizing self-conflicts, in which his sensitive mind became deeply melancholy, and was betrayed into ascetic follies. He was overwhelmed with morbid horrors, and describes himself as losing at times, even the power of thinking. His memory failed; his feelings were cramped, he says, as a man bound in iron armor; he selected the poorest food, and the meanest apparel, and by dirty shoes, patched raiment, and coarse gloves, endeavored to mortify his burdened spirit. He was insulted by his fellow students, and those who employed his serv ices discharged him, because of his self-negligence. He daily underwent some contempt at college. Students threw dirt at him in the streets. Whenever he knelt down to pray he felt great pressure both in soul and body, and often prayed under the weight of it till the sweat dripped from his face. "God only knows," he writes, "how many nights I have lain upon my bed groaning under what I felt. Whole days and weeks have I spent in lying prostrate on the ground in silent or vocal prayer."1 During 1 Philip's Life and Times of Whitefield, chap 1.

the forty days of lent he ate nothing but "coarse bread and sage tea," except on Saturdays and Sundays. He prayed under the trees at night, trembling with the cold, till the bell of the college called him to his dormitory, where he often spent in tears and supplications the hours which should have brought him the relief of sleep. His health sunk under these rigors; but he writes that, notwithstanding his sickness continued six or seven weeks, he trusted he should have reason to bless God for it through the ages of eternity. For about the end of the seventh week, after having undergone inexpressible trials by night and day, under this spiritual bondage, God was pleased at length to remove the heavy load, to enable him to lay hold on the cross by a living faith, and by giving him the Spirit of adoption to seal him, as he humbly hoped, even to the day of everlasting redemption. "But O!" he continued, "with what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy that was full of glory, was my soul filled, when the weight of sin went off, and an abiding sense of the pardoning love of God, and a full assurance of faith, broke in upon my disconsolate soul! Surely it was the day of my espousals, a day to be had in everlasting remembrance. At first my joys were like a spring tide, and, as it were, overflowed the banks; go where I would I could not avoid the singing of psalms almost aloud; afterward they became more settled, and blessed be God, saving a few casual intervals, have abode and increased in my soul ever since."

Healed in soul and convalescent in body, he visited Bristol for a change of air. He met there the bishop of Gloucester, who perceived his talents and earnest spirit, and proffered him ordination. He prepared himself for the ceremony by fasting and prayer, and spent two hours the previous evening on his knees in the neighboring fields. At the ordination he consecrated himself to an apostolic life. "I trust," he writes, "I answered to every question from the bottom of my heart, and heartily prayed that God might say, Amen. And when the bishop laid his hands upon my head, if my vile heart doth not deceive me,

I offered up my whole spirit, soul, and body to the service of God's sanctuary. Let come what will, life or death, depth or height, I shall henceforward live like one who, this day, in the presence of men and angels, took the holy sacrament, upon the profession of being inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to take upon me that ministration in the Church. I can call heaven and earth to witness, that when the bishop laid his hand upon me, I gave myself up to be a martyr for Him who hung upon the cross for me. Known unto him are all future events and contingencies. I have thrown myself blindfold, and, I trust, without reserve, into His almighty hands." His remaining life was an exemplification of these vows. He had a soul of fire, and henceforth it glowed brighter and brighter even unto the perfect day.

tors.

Fitted by every attribute of his large but simple mind to be an evangelist, but not an ecclesiastical legislator, he now went forth as the Baptist of Methodism, to prepare the way in both hemispheres for the Wesleys and their coadjuThe good Bishop of Gloucester, who seems to have felt a genial sympathy with his ardent soul, gave him five guineas, “a great supply," wrote Whitefield, "for one who had not a guinea in the world." His first sermon was preached in the church where he had been baptized, and had received his first communion. He revealed at once his extraordinary powers. It was reported to the bishop that fifteen of his hearers had gone mad. The prelate only wished that the madness might not pass away before another Sabbath.

Returning to Oxford he forthwith resumed his "Methodist" labors, comforting his brethren, visiting the sick and prisoners, and encouraging several charity schools which the "Holy Club” had established. He was called to London to preach temporarily at the Tower. There was some scoffing at his first appearance in the pulpit, but his natural eloquence and vivid zeal burst with surprise upon the people, and he passed out amid their blessings, while the

query flew from one to another, "Who is he?" For two months he continued to labor in the metropolis, visiting the soldiers in the barracks and hospitals, catechising children, reading prayers every evening in one chapel, preaching in others, and delivering one sermon a week at least at Ludgate prison. The people crowded to hear him.

Returning to Oxford he had the pleasure to see the Methodist band increasing, but he was soon away again preaching at Dummer, in Hampshire, where he spent eight hours a day in reading prayers, catechising children, and visiting the parishioners. He had received several letters from the Wesleys, in Georgia, calling him thither. "Do you ask me what you shall have?" wrote John Wesley. "Food to eat, and raiment to put on, a house to lay your head in, such as your Lord had not; and a crown of glory that fadeth not away." His heart, he says, leaped within him, and echoed to the call. Hervey, of the Oxford Club, took his place in Hampshire, and he resolved to go again to London to embark. He went first to Bristol to take leave of his friends. While there he preached indefatigably. People of all classes, and all denominations, from Quakers to High Churchmen, flocked to hear him. "The whole city," he wrote, "seemed to be alarmed." The churches were crowded, "the word was sharper than a two-edged sword, and the doctrine of the new birth made its way like lightning into the hearer's consciences." After a short absence ʼne returned to Bristol, and found the excited people, some ɔn foot and some in coaches, coming a mile out of the city to welcome him. They blessed him as he passed along the streets. Though preaching five times a week, he could not appease the eager crowds. It was difficult for him to make his way through them to the pulpit. Some climbed upon the roof of the church, others hung upon the rails of the organ loft, and the mass within made the air so hot with their breath, that the steam fell from the pillars like drops of rain. When he preached his farewell sermon, the irrepressible feelings of his hearers broke out into sobs and

tears all over the house. They followed him weeping into the street. They kept him busy the next day, from early morning till midnight, in comforting or counseling them, and he had to escape from their importunities, secretly, during the night, for London. While delayed there by his preparations for the voyage, his unexampled eloquence produced a general sensation through the metropolitan churches. When he assisted at the Eucharist, the consecra tion of the elements had to be twice or thrice repeated. Charitable institutions claimed his services, and larger col lections were made than had ever been received by them on similar occasions. Constables were stationed at the doors to restrain the multitude of hearers. Churches were crowded on week-days and on the autumnal Sunday mornings the streets were thronged before dawn with people, lighting their way by lanterns to hear him.

This transcendent power arose from a combination of qualities, with which he was providentially endowed for the crisis that was approaching in the history of English, and, it is not too much to say, the history of general Prot estantism. A great movement was at hand, which needed, among other agencies, powers like these to usher it in on both sides of the Atlantic, and to awaken the popular sympathies to welcome it-a movement which, it has been said, has immediately, or remotely so given an impulse to Christian feeling and profession, on all sides, that it has come to present itself as the starting point of our modern religious history.2 Wesley was approaching the coast of England while Whitefield was preparing for his embarkation; "and now," says an author who was not over credulous respecting the providential facts of Methodism, "and now, when Whitefield, having excited this powerful sensation in London, had departed for Georgia, to the joy of those who dreaded the excesses of his zeal, no sooner had he left the metropolis than Wesley arrived there, to deepen and widen the impression which Whitefield had 2 Isaac Taylor's Wesley and Methodism, Preface.