LABORS IN GREAT BRITAIN—FOURTH VISIT TO AMERICA—NEW TABERNACLE IN LONDON, AND TABERNACLE AT BRISTOL.
1750-1754.

At the beginning of the year 1750, Whitefield was still in London. At this time his intended college at Bethesda occupied much of his attention. He wrote to his friends in every quarter for help. His usual appeal was, "We propose having an academy or college at the orphan-house. The house is large, and will hold a hundred. My heart, I trust, is larger, and will hold ten thousand." Though in London, his heart was in America. He says, "Ranging seems my province; and methinks I hear a voice behind me saying, 'This is the way, walk in it.' My heart echoes back, 'Lord, let thy presence go with me, and then send me where thou pleasest.' In the midst of all, America, dear America, is not forgotten. I begin to count the days, and to say to the months, 'Fly fast away, that I may spread the gospel-net once more in dear America.'"

Be it here mentioned, that amid the busy scenes of his life, and while surrounded with the flatteries of the great and noble, Whitefield did not forget the duties he owed to his mother. A person whom he had employed to obtain some comforts for her, had neglected the duty, so that the now aged matron might have felt a week's anxiety. He wrote to her, "I should never forgive myself, was I, by negligence or any wrong conduct, to give you a moment's needless pain. Alas, how little have I done for you. Christ's care for his mother excites me to wish I could do any thing for you. If you would have any thing more brought, pray write, honored mother. * * * Tomorrow it will be thirty-five years since you brought unworthy me into the world. O that my head were waters, and mine eyes fountains of tears, that I might bewail my barrenness and unfruitfulness in the church of God."

While he was now fully engaged in preaching, and was surrounded with flatteries, he did not forget his duty to conflict with sin. He writes, "I find a love of power sometimes intoxicates even God's dear children. It is much easier for me to obey than govern. This makes me fly from that which, at our first setting out, we are apt to court. I cannot well buy humility at too dear a rate."

Dr. Philip Doddridge, as every reader knows, was one of the most pious and accomplished preachers and writers of the Non-conformists of England in his day. Nor was his missionary zeal small in its degree. Though he died as early as 1751, he had said, "I am now intent on having something done among the dissenters, in a more public manner, for propagating the gospel abroad, which lies near my heart. I wish to live to see this design brought into execution, at least into some forwardness, and then I should die the more cheerfully." It was indeed the passion of his life to promote the interests of evangelical truth, and save the souls of men. And though, as his recent eulogist, the Rev. John Stoughton, has said, condemned by some, and suspected by others for so doing, he took a deep and sympathetic interest in the evangelical labors of Whitefield. It seems strange in our day to think of Whitefield being regarded as an enthusiast by orthodox dissenters. Yet there were those who did thus regard him. Bradbury poured on him streams of wit; Barker regarded his sermons as low and coarse; and another in writing calls him "honest, crazy, confident Mr. Whitefield." But Doddridge regarded him as far otherwise, and spoke of him as "a flaming servant of Christ." He prayed on one occasion at the Tabernacle, but Dr. Watts was much grieved by it; and when, on Whitefield's visiting Northampton, Doddridge gave him the use of his pulpit, the managers of the college of which he was president remonstrated with him for so doing.

The visit of Whitefield to Doddridge was in February, 1750, where he met with the Rev. Dr. Sir James Stonehouse, and the Rev. Messrs. Hartley and Hervey. The latter eminent clergyman thus writes: "I have lately seen that most excellent minister of the ever-blessed Jesus, Mr. Whitefield. I dined, supped, and spent the evening with him at Northampton, in company with Dr. Doddridge, and two pious, ingenious clergymen of the church of England, both of them known to the learned world by their valuable writings. And surely I never spent a more delightful evening, or saw one that seemed to make nearer approaches to the felicity of heaven. A gentleman of great worth and rank in the town invited us to his house, and gave us an elegant treat; but how mean was his provision, how coarse his delicacies, compared with the fruit of my friend's lips: they dropped as honey from the honey-comb, and were a well of life. Surely people do not know that amiable and exemplary man, or else, I cannot but think, instead of depreciating, they would applaud and love him. For my part, I never beheld so fair a copy of our Lord, such a living image of the Saviour, such exalted delight in God, such enlarged benevolence to man, such a steady faith in the divine promises, and such a fervent zeal for the divine glory; and all this without the least moroseness of humor, or extravagance of behavior, sweetened with the most engaging cheerfulness of temper, and regulated by all the sobriety of reason and wisdom of Scripture; insomuch that I cannot forbear applying the wise man's encomium of an illustrious woman to this eminent minister of the everlasting gospel: 'Many sons have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.'"

In the month of March, 1750, a general alarm had been awakened by earthquakes in London, and fears were excited by pretended prophecies of still greater devastation. These signal judgments of Jehovah were preceded by great profligacy of manners, and its fruitful parent, licentiousness of principle. Dr. Horne, afterwards dean of Canterbury and bishop of Bristol, in a sermon preached at the time, says, "As to faith, is not the doctrine of the Trinity, and that of the divinity of our Lord and Saviour—without which our redemption is absolutely void, and we are yet in our sins, lying under the intolerable burden of the wrath of God—blasphemed and ridiculed openly in conversation and in print? And as to righteousness of life, are not the people of this land dead in trespasses and sins? Idleness, drunkenness, luxury, extravagance, and debauchery; for these things cometh the wrath of God, and disordered nature proclaims the impending distress and perplexity of nations. And Oh, may we of this nation never read a handwriting upon the wall of heaven, in illuminated capitals of the Almighty, Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin—God hath numbered the kingdom, and finished it. Thou art weighed in the balances of heaven, and found wanting the merits of a rejected Redeemer, and therefore the kingdom is divided and given away."

The shocks felt in London in February and March of this year, were far more violent than any remembered for a long series of years. The earth moved throughout the whole cities of London and Westminster. It was a strong and jarring motion, attended with a rumbling noise like that of thunder. Multitudes of persons of every class fled from these cities with the utmost haste, and others repaired to the fields and open places in the neighborhood. Towerhill, Moorfields, and Hyde Park were crowded with men, women, and children, who remained a whole night under the most fearful apprehensions. Places of worship were filled with persons in the utmost state of alarm. Especially was this the case with those attached to Methodist congregations, where multitudes came all night, knocking at the doors, and for God's sake begging admittance. As convulsions of nature are usually regarded by enthusiasts and fanatics as the sure harbinger of its dissolution, a soldier "had a revelation," that a great part of London and Westminster would be destroyed by an earthquake on a certain night, between the hours of twelve and one o'clock. Believing his assertion, thousands fled from the city for fear of being suddenly overwhelmed, and repaired to the fields, where they continued all night, in momentary expectation of seeing the prophecy fulfilled; while thousands of others ran about the streets in the most wild and frantic state of consternation, apparently quite certain that the day of judgment was about to commence. The whole scene was truly awful.

Under these circumstances, the ministers of Christ preached almost incessantly, and many were awakened to a sense of their awful condition before God, and to rest their hopes of eternal salvation on the Rock of ages. Mr. Whitefield, animated with that burning charity which shone so conspicuously in him, ventured out at midnight to Hyde Park, where he proclaimed to the affrighted and astonished multitudes that there is a Saviour, Christ the Lord. The darkness of the night, and the awful apprehensions of an approaching earthquake, added much to the solemnity of the scene. The sermon was truly sublime, and to the ungodly sinner, the self-righteous pharisee, and the artful hypocrite, strikingly terrific. With a pathos which showed the fervor of his soul, and with a grand majestic voice that commanded attention, he took occasion from the circumstances of the assembly, to call their attention to that most important event in which every one will be interested, the final consummation of all things, the universal wreck of nature, the dissolution of earth, and the eternal sentence of every son and daughter of Adam. The whole scene was one of a most memorable character. Mr. Charles Wesley, Mr. Romaine, and others preached in a similar manner, and with like happy results.

At this period, Whitefield and his female friends especially, were the subjects of royal attention at the court of George the Second. It is said that on one occasion Lady Chesterfield appeared in a dress "with a brown ground and silver flowers," of foreign manufacture. The king, smiling significantly, said to her aloud, "I know who chose that gown for you—Mr. Whitefield; I hear you have attended on him for a year and a half." Her ladyship acknowledged she had done so, and professed her approbation of his character and ministry; and afterwards deeply regretted that she had not said more when she had so good an opportunity. Whitefield had occasion to wait on the secretary of state, in company with Dr. Gifford, a Baptist pastor in London, to ask relief for some persecuted Christians in Ireland, and was assured that "no hurt was designed by the state to the Methodists." He also renewed his friendship with the Messrs. Wesley, and several times exchanged pulpits with them. He writes, "I have now preached thrice in Mr. Wesley's chapel, and God was with us of a truth."

Again was our evangelist tired of London, and again had he grown sick for want of field-preaching. Accordingly he set out for Bristol and other parts of the west of England; and although rain and hail pelted him in his field-pulpits, he preached "about twenty times in eight or nine days." As soon as he found himself in his own element, he saw every thing in his old lights. He says, "Every thing I meet with seems to carry this voice with it: 'Go thou and preach the gospel; be a pilgrim on earth; have no party, or certain dwelling-place.' My heart echoes back, 'Lord Jesus, help me to do or suffer thy will. When thou seest me in danger of nestling, in pity, in tender pity put a thorn in my nest, to prevent me from it.'"

From Bristol, Whitefield went to Taunton, where he met with the Rev. Richard Pearsall, an eminent and excellent Presbyterian minister, of whom he speaks very highly; and from thence, on his way to Plymouth, he stayed at Wellington, to preach for the Rev. Risdon Darracott, who has ever since been distinguished as "the star in the west." Mr. Darracott was the son of a dissenting minister in Dorsetshire, where he was born in 1717, when Whitefield was three years old. He studied for the ministry under the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, at Northampton, and entered on his ministerial course in Cornwall in 1738, which situation he was most reluctantly compelled to leave two years afterwards from violent hemorrhage of the lungs. Under this alarming visitation he spent about six months with his friends in Devonshire, where his fervent-minded father had preached till his death at the age of forty. While here, he had a call to succeed a venerable minister at Wellington, who had recently deceased. He found the congregation small, and the number of communicants but twenty-eight. His ministry soon drew a large congregation, many of whom had never before made a profession of religion, and were first attracted into the town from the neighboring villages out of mere curiosity to hear him. The house of worship was soon insufficient to contain his hearers; and even when it was enlarged, many were frequently compelled to stand out of doors, unable to obtain an entrance. The Rev. Benjamin Fawcett, who preached his funeral sermon, said, "I never knew any congregation which appeared to have so many instances of abiding religious impressions;" and added, "I have good reason to believe that his ministry was owned to the effectual conversion of many hundreds of souls."

The night before the death of this excellent man, which took place in his forty-second year, he exclaimed, "Oh, what a good God have I, in and through Jesus Christ. I would praise him, but my lips cannot. Eternity will be too short to speak his praises." The physician coming in, he said to him, "Oh, what a mercy is it to be interested in the atoning blood of Jesus. I come to the Lord as a vile sinner, trusting in the merits and precious blood of my dear Redeemer. O grace, grace, free grace!" His last words were, "I am going from weeping friends to congratulating angels, and rejoicing saints in glory. He is coming. Oh, speed thy chariot wheels; why are they so long in coming? I long to be gone!" He left in his church more than two hundred communicants.

Whitefield and Darracott were congenial spirits, and Darracott, like his friend, had suffered much reproach in the cause of his Master; he was what Whitefield called him, "a flaming and successful preacher of the gospel." He had just at this time lost three lovely children. "Two of them," says Whitefield, "had died on the Saturday evening before the sacrament; but weeping did not prevent sowing. He preached the next day, and administered as usual. Our Lord strengthened him; and for his three natural, gave him above thirty spiritual children; and he is likely to have many more. He has ventured his little all for Christ; and last week a saint died who left him and his heirs two hundred pounds in land. Did ever any one trust in God, and was forsaken?" This interview with Darracott, and with good old Mr. Pearsall, who had been a preacher of righteousness before Whitefield was born, had an inspiring influence upon him. He says, "I began to take the field again at his dwelling for the spring! I begin to begin to spend and be spent for Him who shed his own dear heart's blood for me. He makes ranging exceedingly pleasant."

Soon after this, Whitefield went again into Yorkshire. At Rotherham he says, "Satan rallied his forces. The crier was employed to give notice of a bear-baiting. You may guess who was the bear! However, I preached twice. The drum was heard, and several watermen attended with great staves. The constable was struck, and two of the mobbers apprehended, but rescued afterwards." Sheffield and Leeds he found to be a new and warmer climate. Lancashire, however, was still but cold to him. All was quiet at Manchester, and he "humbly hoped some had enlisted," but no great impression was then made. At Bolton, a drunkard stood up behind him to preach; and the wife of the man who lent him the field, twice attempted to stab the workman who put up the stand for him. This roused him, and he bore down all opposition by a torrent of eloquence, which quite exhausted him. In the night, however, some rude fellows got into the barn and stables where his chaise and horses had been put, and cut them very shamefully. This conduct he called, "Satan showing his teeth."

To narrate the particulars of this journey would be little more than a repetition of scenes of insult and of success with which the reader has already become familiar. At Ulverston he says, "Satan made some small resistance. A clergyman, who looked more like a butcher than a minister, came with two others, and charged a constable with me; but I never saw a poor creature sent off with such disgrace."

One of the most remarkable conversions recorded in the history of the church occurred during this journey by the ministry of Mr. Whitefield. The full particulars are recorded in the Life of the Countess of Huntingdon, and can only be briefly mentioned here.

In the early period of Whitefield's ministry, many of the taverns became places where his doctrines and zeal were talked of and ridiculed. A Mr. Thorpe, and several other young men in Yorkshire, undertook at one of these parties to mimic the preaching of Mr. Whitefield. The proposition met with applause; one after another stood on a table to perform his part, and it devolved on Mr. Thorpe to close this irreverent scene. Much elated, and confident of success, he exclaimed, as he ascended the table, "I shall beat you all." Who would have supposed that the mercy of God was now about to be extended to this transgressor of his law? The Bible was handed to him; and by the guidance of unerring Providence, it opened at Luke 13:3: "Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." The moment he read the text his mind was impressed in a most extraordinary manner; he saw clearly the nature and importance of the subject; and as he afterwards said, if he ever preached with the assistance of the Holy Spirit, it was at that time. His address produced a feeling of depression in his auditors; and when he had finished, he instantly retired to weep over his sins. He soon after became associated with the people of God, and died a successful minister of Christ, at Masborough, in Yorkshire, in 1776, about six years after the death of Mr. Whitefield. He was the father of the distinguished Rev. William Thorpe, of Bristol.

Passing on to Edinburgh, Whitefield was, as usual, received with the most unfeigned tenderness and joy, preaching to great multitudes of attentive and serious people, whose earnest desire to hear him made him exert himself beyond his strength. He says, "By preaching always twice, once thrice, and once four times in a day, I am quite weakened; but I hope to recruit again. Christ's presence makes me smile at pain." He returned to London, having preached about one hundred times, it was believed to not less than one hundred thousand people.

Among the occasional hearers of Whitefield when in Scotland, was the celebrated infidel historian, David Hume. An intimate friend having asked him what he thought of Mr. Whitefield's preaching, he replied, "He is, sir, the most ingenious preacher I ever heard; it is worth while to go twenty miles to hear him." He then repeated the following passage, which occurred towards the close of the discourse he had been hearing. "After a solemn pause, Mr. Whitefield thus addressed his numerous audience: '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?' To give the greater effect to this exclamation, he stamped with his foot, lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven, and with gushing 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 language, described what he called a Saviour's dying love to sinful man, so that almost the whole assembly melted into tears. This address was accompanied with such animated, yet natural action, that it surpassed any thing I ever saw or heard in any other preacher."

In the summer of 1751, Whitefield paid a second visit to Ireland, and was most hospitably received in Dublin by a respectable and opulent gentleman named Lunell, who had been brought to Christ by the first Methodist itinerant preacher in that city. During this excursion, Whitefield preached about eighty sermons, fourteen of them in Dublin, and seven in Limerick. His hearers in Dublin organized themselves into a public society, which does not seem to have met his approbation. He says, "This morning I have been talking with dear Mr. Adams, and can not help thinking that you have run before the Lord, in forming yourselves into a public society as you have done. I am sincere when I profess that I do not choose to set myself at the head of any party. When I came to Ireland, my intention was to preach the gospel to all; and if it should ever please the Lord of all lords to send me thither again, I purpose to pursue the same plan. For I am a debtor to all of every denomination, and have no design, if I know any thing of this desperately wicked and deceitful heart, but to promote the common salvation of mankind. The love of Christ constrains me to this."

During this visit, Whitefield a few times ventured out of the city to Oxmantown-green, then a large open place, situated near the royal barracks, where the Ormond and Liberty boys, two factions among the lowest class of the people, generally assembled on the Sabbath to fight with each other. The congregations at first were very numerous, and deeply affected, nor did any disturbance occur. Thus encouraged, the preacher ventured again, and gave notice of his intention to resume his labors. He went through the barracks, the door of which opened into the green, and pitched his tent near the barrack walls, not doubting of the protection, or at least of the interposition of the officers and soldiers, if there should be occasion for it. The multitude in attendance was indeed vast. After singing and prayer, Whitefield preached without molestation, except that now and then a few stones and clods of dirt were thrown at him. It being war-time, he took occasion to exhort his hearers, as was his usual practice, not only to fear God, but to honor the king; and prayed for the success of the king of Prussia. When the service was over, he thought to return home by the way he came, but, to his great surprise, a passage through the barracks was denied; and he was compelled to pass from one end of the green to the other, through thousands of Roman-catholics. He was unattended; for a soldier and four preachers who came with him had fled from the scene of danger, and he was seriously attacked by the mob. They threw vollies of stones upon him from all quarters, and he reeled backwards and forwards till he was almost breathless and covered with blood. At length, with great difficulty he staggered to the door of a minister's house near the green, which was kindly opened to him. For a while he continued speechless, and panting for breath; but his weeping friends having given him a cordial, and washed his wounds, a coach was procured, in which, amidst the oaths, imprecations, and threatenings of the rabble, he got safe home, and united in a hymn of thanksgiving with his friends. In a letter written to a friend soon after this event, he says, "I received many blows and wounds; one was particularly large, and near my temple: I thought of Stephen, and was in hopes, like him, to go off in this bloody triumph to the immediate presence of my Master."

Unpromising, however, as things were in Ireland, the labors of Whitefield, followed as they were by those of the Wesleys, became the foundation of a number of Christian societies that proved vast blessings to Ireland; and some of them grew into large churches, which continue to flourish till this day.

The society to which reference has been made, which assembled in Skinner's alley, secured ministerial aid from the late Rev. John Edwards, who was one of Whitefield's converts, and among the earliest preachers at the Tabernacle in London; and who also itinerated over nearly the whole of England, Scotland, and Ireland. The period was one of great persecution, and this good man had several remarkable preservations from death. At one time, while he resided in Dublin, he was returning from preaching at a village, when he was seized by a party of rude fellows, who declared they would throw him over the bridge into the Liffey. This was observed by an opposite political party, residing on the other side of the river, who encountered his assailants, and rescued him out of their hands, saying he lived on their side the river, and none should hurt him. At another time, having preached out of doors, a furious mob of the White-boys, a political party so called, beset the house in which he was, and threatened to burn it to the ground, unless he was driven out of it. His anxious friends could see but one way for his escape, which was through a window that opened into a garden belonging to a justice of the peace, who was himself a violent persecutor of the Methodists. Through this window Mr. Edwards was, like the apostle Paul, let down in a basket. Here he stood some time in great consternation, fearing the family might observe him, and charge him with breaking into the garden for improper purposes, and so both religion and himself would be injured. At length he ventured to knock at the door, and asked for the magistrate, to whom he ingenuously stated the facts, and who most generously protected and extended to him the hospitalities of his house for two days.

One fact more must be told of this excellent man. He resolved to visit a town to which had removed a number of soldiers who had received benefit from his ministry. He was met, however, by some of these pious men, who told him that the inhabitants were determined to take his life. Edwards was not to be dissuaded from his purpose; and on his arrival he immediately preached in the street, and several distinguished persons, including the mayor of the town, came to hear him, and by their influence prevented disturbance. After the service, the mayor invited him to breakfast with several of the principal inhabitants, and told him they were very glad he was come—that the people were extremely dissolute in their manners, and the clergy, both Protestants and Catholics, exceedingly remiss in their duty, and they hoped the Methodists would succeed in reforming the town. These gentlemen subscribed to the support of stated preaching, and extensive and lasting good was done.

Amid Whitefield's innumerable engagements and declining health, Bethesda and his beloved America could not be forgotten. While he was at Glasgow during this summer of 1751, he was greatly delighted to hear that Mr. Dinwiddie, brother-in-law to the Rev. Mr. M'Culloch, of Cambuslang, was appointed governor of Virginia. The gospel had been much opposed there, and he thought the appointment now made would greatly tend to check persecution.

Whitefield, as it appears to us, now very suddenly determined on another voyage to America. He arrived in London from Edinburgh in the early part of August, with improved health, the country air having healed his hemorrhage. He took a hasty leave of his friends, and set sail for Georgia, in the Antelope, Captain M'Lellan, taking several orphans with him. He arrived at Savannah Oct. 27, and had the happiness of finding the orphan-house in a prosperous condition. Here, however, he did not stay long; as in November we hear of him in his usual labors, and with his usual ardor engaged in his constant work of preaching. Having formerly suffered much from the climate of America in the summer, he determined again to embark for London, which he did in April. We can scarcely trace his object in this journey to and from America, except in some designs of the government to place Georgia on a new footing.

In June, 1752, Mr. Whitefield was found in the society of the Countess of Huntingdon at Bath, where he continued about three weeks, preaching every evening to great numbers of the nobility. Here he became acquainted with Mrs. Grinfield, a lady who attended on the person of Queen Caroline. "One of CÆsar's household," he writes, "hath been lately awakened, through her ladyship's instrumentality, and I hope others will meet with the like blessing." He afterwards visited her at the palace of St. James, and says, "The court, I believe, rings of her, and if she stands, I trust she will make a glorious martyr for her blessed Lord."

The Moravians, or United Brethren, were at one period on terms of very cordial friendship with the Messrs. Wesley and Whitefield. At the time of which we are writing, a series of strange absurdities, resembling the adoration of saints and other superstitions of popery, developed themselves among members of that body, at the head of which then stood Count Zinzendorf, to whom Whitefield wrote an urgent remonstrance on the subject. An open separation took place, and Mrs. Grinfield, the Rev. John Cennick, and some others, adhered to the count, while Whitefield and Lady Huntingdon endeavored to bring him back to what they believed the simplicity of the gospel. Lady Huntingdon, speaking of her final interview with him, says, "Our conference was long, and as the count honored me with his company for a few days, was resumed at intervals, always closing with a solemn scriptural prayer to our great and glorious Head, for the illuminating influences of his Spirit to guide us into all truth. We parted with the utmost cordiality."

"Dear Mr. Whitefield's letter," says Lady Huntingdon, "has much grieved the count. But his remonstrance is faithful, and the awful exposures he has reluctantly been forced to make, may be productive of the highest good in opening the eyes of many to the miserable delusions under which they lie."

A correspondence, indeed we may say friendship, had for years existed between Whitefield and the eminent philosopher Dr. Benjamin Franklin. The following, from a letter of Whitefield, August 17, 1752, shows his fidelity to the eminent citizen and statesman: "I find you grow more and more famous in the learned world. As you have made a pretty considerable progress in the mysteries of electricity, I would now humbly recommend to your diligent, unprejudiced pursuit and study, the mystery of the new birth. It is a most important, interesting study, and when mastered, will richly answer and repay you for all your pains. One, at whose bar we are shortly to appear, hath solemnly declared that, without it, we cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. You will excuse this freedom. I must have aliquid Christi—something of Christ, in all my letters." This honest letter ought to have delighted the philosopher in his closet, even more than the eulogium he heard while standing behind the bar of the House of Lords, when Earl Chatham said of him, "Franklin is one whom Europe holds in high estimation for his knowledge and wisdom; one who is an honor, not to the English nation only, but to human nature."

In the course of the summer of 1752, and the following one, Whitefield visited Scotland twice, and preached much also throughout England and Wales. As usual, he greatly rejoiced in the presence and service of God, and never appears to have been more happy than in this period of his life. "Since I left Newcastle," he writes, "I have scarcely known sometimes whether I have been in heaven or on earth. Thousands and thousands flock twice or thrice a day to hear the word of life. God favors us with weather, and I would fain make hay while the sun shines. Oh that I had as many tongues as there are hairs in my head. The ever-loving, ever-lovely Jesus should have them all. Fain would I die preaching."

About this period also, Mr. Hervey and he were employed in revising each other's manuscripts; the former was then preparing his "Theron and Aspasio," a work which, though florid in its style, has been eminently useful in conducting many of its readers to a saving knowledge of the doctrines of the gospel. Of his friend's writings Mr. Whitefield says, "For me to play the critic on them, would be like holding up a candle to the sun. However, I will just mark a few places, as you desire. I foretell their fate; nothing but your scenery can screen you. Self will never bear to die, though slain in so genteel a manner, without showing some resentment against its artful murderer.... I thank you a thousand times for the trouble you have been at in revising my poor compositions, which I am afraid you have not treated with a becoming severity. How many pardons shall I ask for mangling, and, I fear, murdering your 'Theron and Aspasio?' If you think my two sermons will do for the public, pray return them immediately. I have nothing to comfort me but this, that the Lord chooses the weak things of this world to confound the strong, and things that are not, to bring to naught things that are. I write for the poor; you for the polite and noble. God will assuredly own and bless what you write."

Whitefield was now also very busy in erecting his second London Tabernacle, which he dedicated, June 10, 1753. We have, for the sake of completing the narrative of its first building, already given in our third chapter a statement of the second tabernacle, to which the reader is referred.

Both the judgment and inclination of Mr. Whitefield concurred to induce him to persevere in his itinerant course, correctly judging that in this way he best employed his peculiar talents. After preaching, therefore, with his usual fervor and success for a short time in his newly erected Tabernacle, he again set out towards Scotland, where he spent some days at Edinburgh and Glasgow, and preached generally twice, sometimes three times a day, and once five times. He says, "Attention sat upon all faces, and friends came round like bees, importuning me to stay another week." This he found too much for his strength, but still went forward, often expressing his desire to serve his divine Master to the utmost limit of his power, and his hopes to be with him soon in heaven. During this journey, including his return to London, where he arrived the latter end of September, he travelled about twelve hundred miles, and preached one hundred and eighty times, to many thousands of hearers.

As converts increased in Bristol and its neighborhood, Mr. Whitefield felt compelled to erect there also a "tabernacle." Lady Huntingdon was one of the earliest contributors to this important object, and through her influence Lord Chesterfield gave twenty pounds to it. He had no taste for religion, but he well understood oratory, and in his letter to Lady Huntingdon covering his remittance, he said, "Mr. Whitefield's eloquence is unrivalled, his zeal inexhaustible." The Earl of Bath sent fifty pounds, saying, "Mocked and reviled as Mr. Whitefield is by all ranks of society, still, I contend that the day will come when England will be just, and own his greatness as a reformer, and his goodness as a minister of the most high God."

The Tabernacle at Bristol was dedicated November 25, 1753, with a sermon from Whitefield. Its history is one of deep interest. Its early ministers were worthy of any age, but remarkably fitted for that in which their lot was cast; men of pith and power, undismayed at dangers, braving all kinds of difficulty and toil, and prepared equally for labor and sufferings in the cause of their great Master. Nor have later ministers dishonored their predecessors; the cause still flourishes, and the hallowed house has been the birthplace of many eminent Christians. What Whitefield then said of this house might often be said of it now: "It is large, but not half large enough; for if the place could contain them, nearly as many would attend as in London." He always delighted in his visits to this place, and laid here a foundation for vast benefits, even to the present day. On one of his visits to preach here, he began a series of sermons on the evening before the commencement of the fair. His text was, "Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and he that hath no money, come ye, buy and eat; yea, come buy wine and milk without money, and without price." Isa. 55:1. The congregation was large, and thus he began: "My dear hearers, I fear that many of you are come to attend Bristol fair. So am I. You do not mean to show your goods until to-morrow; but I shall exhibit mine to-night. You are afraid purchasers will not come up to your price; but I am afraid my buyers will not come down to mine; for mine," striking his hand on the Bible, "are 'without money, and without price.'"

After the dedication of this Bristol Tabernacle, Whitefield preached in the open air in various parts of Somersetshire, at seven o'clock at night. "My hands and body," says he, "were pierced with cold; but what are outward things, when the soul is warmed with the love of God? The stars shone with exceeding brightness; by an eye of faith I saw Him who 'calleth them all by their names.' My soul was filled with a holy ambition, and I longed to be one of those who 'shall shine as the stars for ever and ever.'"

At this time he had a fine opportunity to show his Christian attachment to his old friends. Mr. John Wesley had, by a series of extraordinary labors, brought his life into great danger, and Whitefield, hearing of this while at Bristol, wrote a sympathizing letter to his brother Charles, in which he prays for the descending garment of Elijah to rest on the surviving Elisha, and encloses an ardent and solemn farewell to the invalid, who was supposed to be dying. He says, "The news and prospect of your approaching dissolution have 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 you, even you, reverend and very dear sir, shall not leave us yet. But if the decree is gone forth that you must now sleep 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 best respects to you next week. If not, reverend and dear sir, farewell." He had soon the satisfaction of witnessing the recovery of his friend, who was to survive him more than twenty years.

We have already intimated that Whitefield used his influence in Scotland in favor of the New Jersey college, located at Princeton. In accordance with his advice, the friends of the college in this country sent over the Rev. Samuel Davies, afterwards president of the college, and the Rev. Gilbert Tennent, to promote its interests in the British islands. A few extracts from the manuscript diary of Davies, with the use of which we have been favored for this volume, will show the readiness of Whitefield to labor, or to "be nothing," so that the cause of Christ might be advanced. The deputation arrived in England in the closing month of 1753, and thus writes Davies:

"Wednesday, December 26. Mr. Whitefield having sent us an invitation last night to make his house our home during our stay here, we were perplexed what to do, lest we should blast the success of our mission among the dissenters, who are generally disaffected to him. We at length concluded, with the advice of our friends and his, that a public intercourse with him would be imprudent, in our present situation, and visited him privately this evening; and the kind reception he gave us revived dear Mr. Tennent. He spoke in the most encouraging manner as to the success of our mission. And in all his conversation discovered so much zeal and candor, that I could not but admire the man as the wonder of the age. When we returned, Mr. Tennent's heart was all on fire, and after we had gone to bed, he suggested that we should watch and pray; and we rose and prayed together till about three o'clock in the morning.

"Jan. 1. Went in the evening to hear Mr. Whitefield in the Tabernacle, a large, spacious building. The assembly was very numerous, though not equal to what is common. He preached on the parable of the barren fig-tree; and though the discourse was incoherent, yet it seemed to me better calculated to do good to mankind than all the accurate, languid discourses I ever heard. After sermon I enjoyed his pleasing conversation at his house."

It would seem that Messrs. Davies and Tennent had their trials, as well as their encouragements. Writing Jan. 14, Mr. Davies says, "Spent an hour with Mr. Whitefield. He thinks we have not taken the best method in endeavoring to keep in with all parties, but should 'come out boldly,' as he expressed it, which would secure the affections of the pious people, from whom we might expect the most generous contributions." On the evening after this, they dined with Whitefield at the house of a common friend, and he rejoiced in the abundant success they afterwards met with from nearly all parties.

"Jan. 25. Dined with Mr. Bradbury, who has been in the ministry about fifty-seven years. He read us some letters which passed between Mr. Whitefield and him, anno 1741; occasioned by Mr. Whitefield's reproving him in a letter for singing a song in a tavern, in a large company, in praise of old English beef. The old gentleman sung it to us, and we found it was partly composed by himself, in the high-flying days of Queen Anne. He is a man of a singular turn, which would be offensive to the greatest number of serious people; but for my part I could say,

In March, 1754, Whitefield, in company with twenty-two poor destitute children, sailed the fifth time for America.