George Whitefield: A Biography, with special reference to his labors in America

CHAPTER XVI.
SEVENTH VISIT AND LABORS IN AMERICA – DEATH.
1769, 1770

Whitefield now lost no time in proceeding to his beloved Bethesda, which at present wore a very inviting aspect. Writing, January 11, 1770, he says, "Every thing exceeds my most sanguine expectations. I am almost tempted to say, 'It is good for me to be here;' but all must give way to gospel ranging – divine employ!

 
"'For this, let men revile my name,
I'll shun no cross, I'll fear no shame;
All hail, reproach!'"
 

In another letter he says, "The increase of this colony is almost incredible. Two wings are added to the orphan-house, for the accommodation of students; of which Governor Wright laid the foundation, March 25, 1769."

An official paper of the Georgia legislature will show the esteem in which Whitefield was held by that body.

"Commons House of Assembly, Monday, Jan. 29, 1770. Mr. Speaker reported, that he, with the house, having waited on the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, in consequence of his invitation, at the orphan-house academy, heard him preach a very suitable and pious sermon on the occasion; and with great pleasure observed the promising appearance of improvement towards the good purposes intended, and the decency and propriety of behavior of the several residents there; and were sensibly affected, when they saw the happy success which has attended Whitefield's indefatigable zeal for promoting the welfare of the province in general, and the orphan-house in particular. Ordered, that this report be printed in the Gazette.

"JOHN SIMPSON, Clerk."

In pursuance of this vote, we find in the Georgia Gazette as follows: "Savannah, January 31, 1770. Last Sunday, his Excellency the Governor, Council, and Assembly, having been invited by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, attended divine service in the chapel of the orphan-house academy, where prayers were read by the Rev. Mr. Ellington, and a very suitable sermon was preached by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, from Zechariah 4:10, 'For who hath despised the day of small things?' to the great satisfaction of the auditory; in which he took occasion to mention the many discouragements he met with, well known to many there, in carrying on the institution for upwards of thirty years past, and the present promising prospect of its future and more extensive usefulness. After divine service, the company were very politely entertained with a handsome and plentiful dinner; and were greatly pleased to see the useful improvements made in the house, the two additional wings of apartments for students, one hundred and fifty feet each in length, and other lesser buildings, in so much forwardness; and the whole executed with taste, and in so masterly a manner; and being sensible of the truly generous and disinterested benefactions derived to the province through his means, they expressed their gratitude in the most respectful terms."

On February 10, we find a letter written at Charleston by Whitefield to his friend Mr. Robert Keen of London:

"Through infinite mercy, this leaves me enjoying a greater share of bodily health than I have known for many years. I am now enabled to preach almost every day, and my poor feeble labors seem not to be in vain in the Lord. Blessed be God, all things are in great forwardness at Bethesda. I have conversed with the governor in the most explicit manner, more than once, concerning an act of Assembly for the establishment of the intended orphan-house college. He most readily consents. I have shown him a draft, which he much approves of, and all will be finished at my return from the northward; in the meanwhile the building will be carried on. As two ministers from New Jersey and Rhode Island have been soliciting benefactions for their respective colleges, no application of that nature can be made here; but the Lord will provide… Since my being in Charleston, I have shown the draft to some persons of great eminence and influence. They highly approve of it, and willingly consent to be some of the wardens. Nearly twenty are to be of Georgia, and about six of this place; one of Philadelphia, one of New York, one of Boston, three of Edinburgh, two of Glasgow, and six of London. Those of Georgia and South Carolina are to be qualified; the others to be only honorary corresponding wardens."

Two days afterwards he again writes to the same friend, "In a few months, I hope all will be completed. But what may these few months produce? Lord Jesus, prepare us for whatsoever thou hast prepared for us, and give peace in our time, for thine infinite mercy's sake. You must expect another draft soon. God be praised for that saying, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.' You would be pleased to see with what attention the people hear the word preached. I have been in Charleston near a fortnight – am to preach at a neighboring country parish church next Sunday, and hope to see Georgia the week following. Perhaps I may sail from thence to the northward, and perhaps embark from thence. Lord Jesus, direct my goings in thy way. I am blessed with bodily health, and am enabled to go on my way rejoicing. Grace, grace!"

On returning to Bethesda, his heart seems to have been full of the orphan-house and the college. For the direction of the latter, he prepared a series of rules, and especially provided for the reading of the old Puritan and Non-conformist writers of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Every letter he wrote contained references to the improved state of his health, and the increased number of preaching engagements which he was now able to fulfil. His spirits seem to have been better, and his exultations in the divine kindness more ardent than ever, while his correspondence indicates much heavenly-mindedness, and lively desires for the highest happiness of his friends.

As Whitefield had now been in the south more than five months, we are not surprised to find that applications poured in from every part of the north, entreating him to revisit the scenes of other years. He left Bethesda and its affairs in the hands of persons worthy of his confidence, of whom he said, "Such a set of helpers I never met with."

After some hesitation as to where he should first go, he set out for Philadelphia, where he arrived on the 6th of May. Writing three days afterwards, he says, "The evening following, I was enabled to preach to a large auditory, and have to repeat the delightful task this evening. Pulpits, hearts, and affections, seem to be as open and enlarged to me as ever." On the 24th he again wrote, "A wide and effectual door, I trust, has been opened in this city. People of all ranks flock as much as ever. Impressions are made on many, and I trust they will abide. To all the Episcopal churches, as well as most of the other places of worship, I have free access. Notwithstanding I preach twice on the Lord's day, and three or four times a week besides, yet I am rather better than I have been for many years. This is the Lord's doing." On June 14, he says, "This leaves me just returned from a one hundred and fifty miles' circuit, in which, blessed be God, I have been enabled to preach every day. So many new as well as old doors are open, and so many invitations sent from various quarters, that I know not which way to turn myself."

Of his last visit to New Jersey, Bishop White of Philadelphia, then a young man of twenty-three, says, "When he was on his way from Philadelphia to Boston, late in the summer, he had been prevailed on to promise to cross from Bristol to Burlington, and to preach there. I happened to be in the latter place, and staying in the house of a relative, when it was announced that Mr. Whitefield was at a tavern on the other side of the river. He was expected to be escorted by my relative. I went with him; and we returned in a boat with Mr. Whitefield and his company. He preached to the assembled citizens in front of the court-house, and afterwards dined at the house of my relative. During dinner, he was almost the only speaker, as was said to be common; all present being disposed to listen."

A few days after this visit, we find him at New York, writing, June 30, "I have been here just a week. Have been enabled to preach four times; and am to repeat the delightful task this evening. Congregations are larger than ever. Blessed be God, I have been strengthened to itinerate and preach daily for some time. Next week I purpose to go to Albany; from thence, perhaps to the Oneida Indians. There is to be a very large Indian congress; Mr. Kirkland accompanies me. He is a truly Christian minister and missionary. Every thing possible should be done to strengthen his hands and his heart. Perhaps I may not see Georgia till Christmas. As yet, I keep to my intended plan, in respect to my returning. Lord Jesus, direct my goings in thy way. The heat begins now to be a little intense; but through mercy I am enabled to bear up bravely. What a God do we serve!"

On the twenty-ninth of July, he again writes from the same city, and it is the last entry in his memorandum: "Since my last, and during this month, I have been above a five hundred miles' circuit; and have been enabled to preach and travel through the heat every day. The congregations have been very large, attentive, and affected; particularly at Albany, Schenectady, Great Barrington, Norfolk, Salisbury, Sharon, Smithfield, Poughkeepsie, Fishkill, New Rumbart, New Windsor, and Peck's Hill. Last night I returned hither, and hope to set out for Boston in two or three days. O what a new scene of usefulness is opening in various parts of this world! All fresh work where I have been. The divine influence has been as at first. Invitations crowd upon me both from ministers and people, from many, many quarters. A very peculiar providence led me very lately to a place where a horse-stealer was executed. Thousands attended. The poor criminal had sent me several letters, hearing I was in the country. The sheriff allowed him to come and hear a sermon under an adjacent tree. Solemn, solemn! After being by himself about an hour, I walked half a mile with him to the gallows. His heart had been softened before my first visit. He seemed full of solid, divine consolation. An instructive walk! I went up with him into the cart. He gave a short exhortation. I then stood upon the coffin – added, I trust, a word in season – prayed – gave the blessing, and took my leave. Effectual good, I hope, was done to the hearers and spectators. Grace, grace!"

Our local histories seem to delight to honor Whitefield by the introduction of his name whenever they have an opportunity. In a notice of Sharon, in "Barber's Historical Collections of Connecticut," the writer says, "In the latter part of July, 1770, the Rev. George Whitefield passed through this town on a preaching tour. There was considerable opposition to his being admitted into the meeting-house, and arrangements had been made to hold the service in an orchard still standing near the meeting-house, in case he should be refused. Mr. Smith, [the Rev. Cotton Mather Smith, a descendant of Cotton Mather,] invited him into the pulpit, though strongly opposed by a considerable number of influential men. An immense congregation from this and the neighboring towns filled the meeting-house to overflowing. His text was, 'Marvel not that I said unto you, Ye must be born again.' He proceeded to discourse on the doctrine of the new birth with astonishing power and eloquence, and the congregation were much moved by the power of the truth and Spirit of God. The concluding words of his discourse were a quotation, with a little variation, from the close of the fourth chapter of Solomon's Song. 'Awake, O north wind, and come, thou south; blow upon this garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my Beloved come into this garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.' Many of the inhabitants of Sharon followed him for several successive days, to hear the word of life from this devoted minister of the cross."

We think it must have been in this journey that Whitefield's ministry was blessed to the conversion of a young man who has left his mark on the age. Benjamin Randall was born in New Castle, New Hampshire, in 1749. In his twenty-second year he was brought under the ministry of Whitefield, by which means he became deeply convinced of sin, and was soon after converted to God. In 1776, he united with a Calvinistic Baptist church; but before long began to preach what he accounted more correct doctrines in his native town, and was honored of God to effect a very powerful and extensive revival. He is considered the founder of the denomination of Freewill Baptists, which now comprises from eleven to twelve hundred churches, more than a thousand pastors and licentiates, and upwards of fifty thousand communicants. Mr. Randall was a man of strong mental powers, and though he had not a classical education, he was a good English scholar, aspired after general and religious knowledge, had fine discriminating talent, and was remarkable for the perseverance with which he pursued whatever he undertook. Above all, like his spiritual father, he possessed what a living preacher has well called, "a passion for souls."

From New York Whitefield proceeded to Boston, and short extracts from two of his letters, and those the last he wrote, will show his position and his feelings:

September 17, he says to Mr. Wright, at Bethesda, "Fain would I come by Captain Souder, from Philadelphia; but people are so importunate for my stay in these parts, that I fear it will be impracticable. 'My God will supply all my need according to the riches of his grace in Christ Jesus.' Two or three evenings ago, I was taken in the night with a violent flux, attended with retching and shivering, so that I was obliged to return from Newbury; but through infinite mercy I am restored, and to-morrow morning hope to begin again. Never was the word received with greater eagerness than now. All opposition seems, as it were, for a while to cease. I find God's time is the best. The season is critical as to outward circumstances; but when forts are given up, the Lord Jesus can appoint salvation for walls and for bulwarks; he has promised to be a wall of fire round about his people. This comforts me concerning Bethesda, though we should have a Spanish war. You will be pleased to hear, I never was carried through the summer's heat so well."

And finally, to his dear friend Mr. Keen of London, he wrote from Portsmouth, New Hampshire, September 23, just one week before his death, "By this time I thought to be moving southward. But never was greater importunity used to detain me longer in these northern parts. Poor New England is much to be pitied; Boston people most of all. How grossly misrepresented! What a mercy that our Christian charter cannot be dissolved! Blessed be God for an unchangeable Jesus! You will see, by the many invitations, what a door is opened for preaching the everlasting gospel. I was so ill on Friday that I could not preach, though thousands were waiting to hear. Well, the day of release will shortly come, but it does not seem yet; for by riding sixty miles I am better, and hope to preach here to-morrow. I trust my blessed Master will accept these poor efforts to serve him. O for a warm heart! O to stand fast in the faith, to acquit ourselves like men, and be strong! May this be the happy experience of you and yours. I suppose your letters are gone for me in the Anderson to Georgia. If spared so long, I expect to see them about Christmas. Still pray and praise. I am so poorly, and so engaged when able to preach, that this must apologize for not writing to more friends: it is quite impracticable."

Whitefield's hope to "preach here to-morrow" was fully realized. In the "Pennsylvania Journal and Weekly Advertiser," we find a letter from Portsmouth, dated Sept. 28, 1770, which says, "Last Sunday morning came to town from Boston, the Rev. George Whitefield, and in the afternoon he preached at the Rev. Dr. Haven's meeting-house; Monday morning he preached again at the same place, to a very large and crowded audience. Tuesday morning a most numerous assembly met at the Rev. Dr. Langdon's meeting-house, which it is said will hold nearly six thousand people, and was well filled, even the aisles. Evening he preached at the Rev. Mr. John Rodgers' meeting-house in Kittery, and yesterday at the Rev. Mr. Lyman's in York, to which place a number of ladies and gentlemen from town accompanied him. This morning [Friday] he will preach at the Rev. Dr. Langdon's meeting-house in this town."

We are now approaching the closing scene, and are invited to hear Whitefield's last sermon. On his way to Newburyport, where he had engaged to preach on Sunday morning, September 30, he was entreated to preach at Exeter. This had been the scene of some of his former triumphs. He was once preaching here, when a man was present who had loaded his pocket with stones to throw at the preacher. He heard his prayer with patience, but as soon as he had read his text, the man took a stone out of his pocket and held it in his hand, waiting for an opportunity to throw it. But God sent a word to his heart, and the stone dropped from his hand. After the sermon, the poor fellow went to Mr. Whitefield, and said, "Sir, I came here to-day with the intention of breaking your head, but God has given me a broken heart." This man was converted to God, and lived an ornament to the gospel.

As though it had been felt by the public that this might be our preacher's last sermon, inconvenient as Saturday noon must be for the assembling of a congregation for worship, such a multitude was collected that no house could contain them, and Whitefield, for nearly two hours, discoursed to an attentive crowd in the open air. Of this last sermon at Exeter, a gentleman who was present has given a deeply interesting and affecting account. The relator was then in his eighty-sixth year, but he retained a strong remembrance of the most trivial incidents connected with that extraordinary man. He says:

"It was usual for Mr. Whitefield to be attended by Mr. Smith, who preached when he was unable on account of sudden attacks of asthma. At the time referred to, after Mr. Smith had delivered a short discourse, Mr. Whitefield seemed desirous of speaking; but from the weak state in which he then was, it was thought almost impossible. He rose from the seat in the pulpit, and stood erect, and his appearance alone was a powerful sermon. The thinness of his visage, the paleness of his countenance, the evident struggling of the heavenly spark in a decayed body for utterance, were all deeply interesting; the spirit was willing, but the flesh was dying. In this situation he remained several minutes, unable to speak; he then said, 'I will wait for the gracious assistance of God, for he will, I am certain, assist me once more to speak in his name.' He then delivered perhaps one of his best sermons, for the light generally burns most splendidly when about to expire. The subject was a contrast of the present with the future; a part of this sermon I read to a popular and learned clergyman in New York, who could not refrain from weeping when I repeated the following: 'I go, I go to rest prepared; my sun has arisen, and by aid from heaven, given light to many; 't is now about to set for – no, it cannot be! 't is to rise to the zenith of immortal glory; I have outlived many on earth, but they cannot outlive me in heaven. Many shall live when this body is no more, but then – Oh, thought divine! – I shall be in a world where time, age, pain, and sorrow are unknown. My body fails, my spirit expands; how willingly would I live for ever to preach Christ! but I die to be with him. How brief, comparatively brief, has been my life, compared with the vast labors I see before me yet to be accomplished; but if I leave now, while so few care about heavenly things, the God of peace will surely visit you.' These, and many other things he said, which, though simple, were rendered important by circumstances; for death had let fly his arrow, and the shaft was deeply enfixed when utterance was given to them: his countenance, his tremulous voice, his debilitated frame, all gave convincing evidence that the eye which saw him should shortly see him no more for ever. When I visited the place where he is entombed, Newburyport, I could not help saying, 'The memory of the just is blessed,' Few are there like George Whitefield; however zealous, they do not possess the masterly power, and those who do, too often turn it to a purpose that does not glorify God."

We have already spoken of the Rev. Daniel Rodgers, a descendant of the martyr of that name, and pastor of the second congregational church at Exeter. It was this old friend of Whitefield who had importuned him to preach at Exeter. The "Almanack Journal" of this excellent man contains the following items of the activity of our "eloquent orator" in his closing days: "September 10, 1770, dear Mr. Whitefield preached here, A. M., ten o'clock. 11th, Mr. Whitefield preached again in Mr. Parsons' meeting-house. 12th, I rode over to Rowley, Mr. Whitefield preached there. 14th, a storm of rain. 15th, the rain continues. Mr. Whitefield went to Boston, not well. 25th, I heard dear Mr. Whitefield preach. 26th, he went to Kittery, and preached for brother John; P. M. I rode to York. 27th, Mr. Whitefield preached at York; P. M. we returned to Portsmouth. 28th, Mr. Whitefield preached his farewell sermon; I returned home. 29th, dear Mr. Whitefield preached for me the last sermon he ever preached."

Mr. Smith's account of the closing scene will not be considered too minute in its details. "Before he commenced his journey of fifteen miles from Portsmouth to Exeter, Mr. Clarkson, senior, observing him more uneasy than usual, said to him, 'Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to preach.' Whitefield's reply was, 'True, sir;' but turning aside, he clasped his hands together, and looking up, said, 'Lord Jesus, I am weary in thy work, but not of thy work. If I have not yet finished my course, let me go and speak for thee once more in the fields, seal thy truth, and come home and die.' His last sermon was from 2 Cor. 13:5, 'Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates?' He dined at Captain Gillman's. After dinner, Mr. Whitefield and Mr. Parsons rode to Newbury. I did not get there till two hours after them. I found them at supper. I asked Mr. Whitefield how he felt after his journey. He said he was tired, therefore he supped early, and went to bed. He ate a very little supper, talked but little, asked Mr. Parsons to discharge the table, and perform family duty, and then retired up stairs."

The Rev. Dr. Hallock tells us, that, in 1822, he visited Newburyport and the tomb of Whitefield. He was then told by persons whom he considered reliable, that when Whitefield was retiring to his chamber on this last evening of his life, many were so desirous to see and hear him, that he stood on the stairs with a lamp in his hand, and there gave them a tender spiritual address.

We resume Mr. Smith's account: "He said he would sit and read till I came to him, which I did as soon as possible; and found him reading the Bible, with Dr. Watts' Psalms lying open before him. He asked me for some water-gruel, and took about half his usual quantity; and kneeling down by his bedside, closed the evening with prayer. After a little conversation, he went to rest, and slept till two in the morning, when he awoke, and asked for a little cider; he drank about a wine-glass full. I asked him how he felt, for he seemed to pant for breath. He said to me, 'My asthma is coming on again; I must have two or three days' rest. Two or three days' riding, without preaching, would set me up again.' Soon afterwards, he asked me to put the window up a little higher, though it was half up all night. 'For,' said he, 'I cannot breathe; but I hope I shall be better by and by: a good pulpit sweat to-day may give me relief; I shall be better after preaching.' I said to him, 'I wish you would not preach so often.' He replied, 'I had rather wear out than rust out.' I then told him, I was afraid he took cold in preaching yesterday. He said he believed he had; and then sat up in bed, and prayed that God would be pleased to bless his preaching where he had been, and also bless his preaching that day, that more souls might be brought to Christ. He prayed for direction whether he should winter in Boston, or hasten to the southward; and he prayed for a blessing on his Bethesda college, and his dear family there, for the Tabernacle and Chapel congregations, and all connections on the other side of the water; and then he laid himself down to sleep again.

"This was near three o'clock. At a quarter past four he awoke, and said, 'My asthma, my asthma is coming on; I wish I had not given out word to preach at Haverhill on Monday; I don't think I shall be able; but I shall see what to-day will bring forth. If I am no better to-morrow, I will take two or three days' ride!' He then desired me to warm him a little gruel; and in breaking the fire-wood, I waked Mr. Parsons, who thinking I knocked for him, rose and came in. He went to Mr. Whitefield's bedside, and asked him how he felt. He answered, 'I am almost suffocated. I can scarcely breathe, my asthma quite chokes me.' I was then not a little surprised to hear how quickly, and with what difficulty he drew his breath. He got out of bed, and went to the open window for air. This was exactly at five o'clock. I went to him, and for about the space of five minutes saw no danger, only that he had a great difficulty in breathing, as I had often seen before. Soon afterwards, he turned himself to me, and said, 'I am dying.' I said, 'I hope not, sir.' He ran to the other window, panting for breath, but could get no relief. It was agreed that I should go for Dr. Sawyer; and on my coming back, I saw death on his face; and he again said, 'I am dying.' His eyes were fixed, his underlip drawing inward every time he drew breath. I persuaded him to sit down in the chair, and have his cloak on; he consented by a sign, but could not speak. I then offered him a glass of warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed as if it would have stopped his breath entirely. He went towards the window, and we offered him some warm wine, with lavender drops, which he refused.

"In a little time he brought up a considerable quantity of phlegm. I then began to have some small hopes. Mr. Parsons said he thought Mr. Whitefield breathed more freely than he did, and would recover. I said, 'No, sir, he is certainly dying.' I was continually employed in taking the phlegm out of his mouth with a handkerchief, and bathing his temples with drops, rubbing his wrists, etc., to give him relief, if possible, but all in vain; his hands and feet were as cold as clay. When the doctor came in, and saw him in the chair leaning upon my breast, he felt his pulse, and said, 'He is a dead man.' Mr. Parsons said, 'I do not believe it; you must do something, doctor.' He said, 'I cannot; he is now near his last breath.' And so indeed it was; for he fetched but one gasp, and stretched out his feet, and breathed no more. This was exactly at six o'clock. We continued rubbing his legs, hands, and feet, with warm cloths, and bathed him with spirits for some time, but all in vain. I then put him into a warm bed, the doctor standing by, and often raised him upright, continued rubbing him and putting spirits to his nose for an hour, till all hopes were gone. The people came in crowds to see him."

Whitefield seems to have had somewhat of a presentiment that his death would be unattended with any remarkable expression of spiritual enjoyment. In his last preceding visit to this country, he had spent a day or two under the roof of the Rev. Dr. Finley, then president of the college at Princeton, New Jersey. One day Dr. Finley said at the dinner-table, "Mr. Whitefield, I hope it will be very long before you will be called home; but when that event shall arrive, I shall be glad to hear the noble testimony you will bear for God." Whitefield replied, "You would be disappointed, doctor; I shall die silent. It has pleased God to enable me to bear so many testimonies for him during my life, that he will require none from me when I die. No, no. It is your dumb Christians, who have walked in fear and darkness, and thereby been unable to bear a testimony for God during their lives, that he compels to speak out for him on their death-beds."

We resume Mr. Smith's narrative: "The Rev. Mr. Parsons, at whose house my dear master died, sent for Captain Fetcomb, and Mr. Boadman, and others of his elders and deacons, and they took the whole of the burial upon themselves, prepared the vault, and sent and invited the bearers. Many ministers of all persuasions came to the house of the Rev. Mr. Parsons, where several of them gave a very particular account of their first awakenings under his ministry several years ago, and also of many in their congregations that, to their knowledge, under God, owed their conversion to his coming among them, often referring to the blessed seasons they had enjoyed under his preaching; and all said, that this last visit was attended with more power than any other, and that all opposition fell before him. Then one and another would pity and pray for his dear Tabernacle and Chapel congregations, and it was truly affecting to hear them bemoan America and England's loss. Thus they continued for two hours, conversing about his great usefulness, and praying that God would scatter his gifts, and drop his mantle among them."

Dr. Gillies says, "Early next morning, Mr. Sherburn of Portsmouth sent Mr. Clarkson and Dr. Haven with a message to Mr. Parsons, desiring that Mr. Whitefield's remains might be buried in his own new tomb, at his own expense; and in the evening several gentlemen from Boston came to Mr. Parsons, desiring the body might be carried there. But as Mr. Whitefield had repeatedly desired to be buried before Mr. Parsons' pulpit, if he died at Newburyport, Mr. Parsons thought himself obliged to deny both these requests."