22. "Weary in Thy Work, But Not Weary of It" 189
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" Weary in Thy Work, But Not Weary of It"The last ten years of Whitefield's life (1760-1770) witnessed a series of events in which, though virtually overcome by physical weakness, upon being confronted by a opportunity to preach he quickly became strong again and declared the Word with both physical and spiritual power. This process characterized the closing decade of his career.
Whitefield had never known vibrantly good health, and as early as 1748 he had given evidence of suffering a definite physical disorder. He was then preaching in Scotland; the weather was boisterous and the wind high, and he became "ill with a hoarseness and a cold in straining to reach large congregations." On his return journey to London he stated, "I am apt to believe I have strained myself inwardly. I feel sensible pain in my breathing."1
And this condition did not leave him. From that point onward a distinct weakness was manifest. It seems to have been linked with his "vomiting great quantities of blood" which followed his efforts to make some particularly large congregation hear. In forthcoming months his condition steadily declined, till by 1757, as his first biographer tells us, "his attendance during the winter at both the Chapel and the Tabernacle greatly impaired his health. He was troubled with continual vomitings, got little sleep and had no appetite. Still he went on as well as he could."
During these days, however, an event took place which, among other things, proved he was not out to make gain for himself. A Miss Hunter, a Scottish woman of considerable wealth, made him an offer of her entire estate. This he refused. Then she offered it for the use of the Orphan House, but this also he did not accept. The reasons for his action are not known, but the event is reported and attested by his first biographer, Dr. John Gillies, a Scotsman.2
From 1756 onward England was engaged in the Seven Years War with France, and therefore Whitefield had been prevented from making a further visit to America. His passages across the ocean, despite the lack of comfort on board, had provided a measure of relaxation and had proved a physical help. He yearned to sail again, but being retained in England he pursued his labors, ministering at the Chapel and the Tabernacle during the Winter months. Throughout the balance of the year, although he still bore the responsibility of these two works and frequently ministered in their pulpits, he itinerated throughout the British Isles.
Early in 1760, however, Whitefield found himself so weak that he could scarcely preach. He had virtually become an invalid, and he even went to Bristol and tried drinking the supposed health-giving waters there. But all was to no avail. A physician suggested "a perpetual blister," and Whitefield replied, "Give me perpetual preaching."
Nevertheless, despite his condition certain men of the world now made him the particular object of their spite.
A celebrated actor, Samuel Foote, wrote a play entitled The Minor3 and performed it in the Drury Lane Theatre. The play held Whitefield up to obscene ridicule. In mockery of the condition of his eyes it termed him "Dr Squintum"; the other characters were "Shirk," "Shift," and "Mrs Cole." The latter is an old bawd who says, "Mr Whitefield scrubbed me with scouring powder at the Tabernacle and made me clean." She makes loud profession of her conversion, but continues in her vile manner of life. Tyerman says, "The whole thing is steeped in lewdness," and a London magazine remarked, "The satire levelled against the great leader of the Methodists ... is no less unjust to Mr Whitefield than absurd."4
Whitefield made no definite mention of Foote. However, it is possible that he was referring to him when, preaching about Heaven and his longing to be there, he exclaimed, "There, there, the ungodly foot will trample upon the saint no more!"
The Minor was a financial success, and therefore it was both repeated and imitated. Foote performed it in three major theatres, and other writers provided similar productions and staged them in various playhouses. Moreover, several obscene ballads were written about imaginary incidents in Whitefield's life, and numerous lewd tales were circulated about him. It became hardly possible for him to step onto the street without hearing children singing the ballads and older ones taunting him with the false reports.
But as a result of this treatment people came in increasing numbers, crowding into the Tabernacle and the Chapel; and they swelled even more his open-air congrega tions. In fact, a considerable amount of the opposition Whitefield had long borne died away at this time.
Whitefield undoubtedly suffered inwardly from the vile treatment and the lying reports, but he con tinued his labors to the fullest of his strength.
Moreover, at this time he assisted certain Christians in Europe. Russia was then at war with Germany, and several German pastors had informed him of their people's suffering under the cruelty of the Cossack soldiers. He appealed to his congregations and received for the Germans' help £450. For this the King of Prussia sent a letter expressing the devout gratitude of himself and his people.
Whitefield's health, however, now became much worse, and in 1761 he was brought to the gates; of death. But as soon as he was able he arose from his sickbed, got out of London, and ministered at Bristol and Plymouth. Yet he soon found it necessary to return to London, and there the responsibilities of the Tabernacle and Chapel quickly began to lay him low.
He felt that a sea trip would help, but since the war still prevented a trans-Atlantic voyage, he accepted the invitations he had received to sail to Holland. Although the; language difference prevented him from drawing large congregations, he nevertheless preached through an interpreter, and did so in several cities.5
Much improved in health after a month in Holland, he returned to England and immediately launched into his labors. While preaching at Norwich he was provided with a "prophet's chamber," and he spoke of "lying on a nasty, stinking mattress, continually bit by fleas."6 Whitefield was a man of exceptional neatness and cleanliness, and his own home was remarkable for the absence of these pests, then so prevalent in the homes of England.
Late in 1762 the war came to an end, and Whitefield immediately made plans to sail to America. He placed the Chapel and the Tabernacle in the hands of three trustees, able and godly men: Keen, Hardy, and Beckman. He once more visited Scotland—his thirteenth visit—and while there he said, "My poor tabernacle is so far restored as to enable me to mount my Gospel throne once a day. Perhaps the sea air will brace me up a little more." John Wesley was in Scotland at the time and after visiting with him said, "Humanly speaking he is worn out. His frame has received its major shock."
Whitefield reached America—coming for the sixth time—in August 1763. Eight years had passed since his last visit, and he had altered physically. His weariness showed on his countenance, and he had grown somewhat corpulent. But the people welcomed him with excited joy, and as he traveled from the port to Bethesda he said, "All along the cry is 'For Christ's sake, stay and preach to us!'"
The income from the plantation that his friends had provided for the support of the Orphan House allowed him now "to pay off all Bethesda's arrears." He found the residence and the school in the best of order and the grounds beautified, and the place proved to him a joy and contentment.
Whitefield again launched out on an extensive preaching tour.
While in Connecticut he visited a school for Indian boys operated by the Rev. Eleazar Wheelock. He suggested that it would be well if Samson Occum, a talented young Indian preacher, could visit England on behalf of the school. Three years later this plan was put into effect, and £12,500 was received.7 Whitefield stated at the time, "The truly noble Lord Dartmouth espouses the cause most heartily, and his Majesty is become a contributor." Dartmouth was a Calvinist and a particular friend of Whitefield's. Wheelock's School later became Dartmouth College.
Whitefield, however, had one particular purpose in mind in this trip to America. From the time of the founding of Bethesda he had planned on adding a college, and he now sought to bring that plan to fruition. While in Georgia he wrote a Memorial—a history of Bethesda, stating the need of a college in that Colony and the manner in which the institution that he proposed would meet that need. The governor of the Colony entirely agreed with the plan, and therefore Whitefield soon returned to England to complete arrangements and secure a charter. He arrived July 5, 1765.
But in England, since the proposal had a religious relationship, Whitefield's petition was put by government officials before the Archbishop of Canterbury. The archbishop concurred with the idea of a college in Georgia, but required that it be operated as a Church of England institution. To this Whitefield would not agree, stating that Dissenters had been the largest givers, both to the Orphan House and the proposed college, and that the school must be established on an undenominational basis.8
Knowing, however, that the College of New Jersey (afterwards Princeton College) had secured a charter from the Colony in which it was situated, he planned on doing the same in Georgia.
During these days in England, although still virtually an invalid, Whitefield nevertheless conducted his ministry. Unfortunately, however, a hearer, Joseph Gurney, recorded eighteen of his Wednesday evening talks in shorthand and published them as "Whitefield's sermons."9 They were rambling conversations with his own people and were faultily transcribed. When Whitefield saw a copy, he was shocked and declared it ought never to have been published. His trustees asserted, "These sermons are not Mr Whitefield's either in sentiment or expression."
But the Eighteen Sermons, being inexpensive, had several printings throughout the following century and provided the only concept of his preaching available to a great many people. They were later included in the widely-circulated volume Seventy Five Sermons by the Rev George Whitefield, and therefore they further falsified the public's image of his ministry
At this time (1768) Whitefield opened three of Lady Huntingdon's chapels and also the college for young ministers that she established at Trevecca in Wales. He frequently preached again to the several nobility in her drawing room and stated, "Some more coronets are likely to be laid at the Redeemer's feet." Various of these titled persons, as well as several professional men, were regular worshipers at the Tottenham Court Road Chapel. And this was the labor of a man virtually too sick to preach!
During 1769 Whitefield made his seventh and final visit to America—his thirteenth crossing of the Atlantic. The voyage was long and trying, but it revived him physically.
He hastened to reach Bethesda and found "all things in great forwardness." The governor was ready to proceed with an Act of Assembly to establish the "College of Georgia," and Whitefield had had a builder construct two extensive wings that were to house it, one on each side of the Orphan House. He was extremely happy at Bethesda and undoubtedly would have liked to remain there for the rest of his days.
Notwithstanding such desires, he launched out once again to declare the gospel. He was shown respect and even affection virtually everywhere, and he said, "People of all ranks flock as much as ever." After preaching in and around Philadelphia for five weeks, he moved on to New York, where he wrote, "During this month I have been above a five hundred miles circuit, and have been enabled to preach and travel through the heat of the day. The congregations have been very large. . . . Invitations crowd upon me from both ministers and people." The circuit took him through much of New England, and he even purposed to go on into Canada. But when he was in New Hampshire he proved too ill to continue and therefore reluctantly turned southward. He was drawing near to the close of his service for Christ on earth.
On September 29, on his way to Boston, he reached the town of Exeter. He intended to pass through, but found a great number of people had gathered and were insistent that he stay and preach. A platform had been prepared in a field, and as he approached it an elderly gentleman said, "Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to preach." "True, Sir," replied Whitefield, and turning aside and looking up he stated,
Lord Jesus, I am weary in thy work, but not weary of it. 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.10
Another gentleman wrote,
Mr Whitefield rose and stood erect, and his appearance alone was a powerful sermon. He remained several minutes unable to speak, and then said, 'I will wait for the gracious assistance of God. . . .'
He then delivered, perhaps, one of his best sermons. 'I go,' he cried, 'I go to a rest prepared; my sun has arisen and by aid from Heaven has given light to many. It is now about to set—no, it is about to rise to the zenith of eternal glory. Many may outhve me on earth, but they cannot outhve me in Heaven.
'Oh thought divine! I shall soon be in a world where time, age, pain and sorrow are unknown. My body fails, my spirit expands. How willingly would I live to preach Christ! But I die to be with Him!'11
Whitefield's sermon was from the Scripture, "Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith." It was two hours in length and "was delivered with such clearness, pathos and eloquence" that many hearers stated it was the greatest sermon they ever heard from him.12
Following this tremendous effort, Whitefield went on to the home of the Rev. Jonathan Parsons, of the Old South Presbyterian Church in Newburyport. While the family was at supper, he said he was tired and would go to bed. He was on a landing on the stairs when the door was opened to admit a host who had gathered outside and they earnestly requested that he preach. He paused, candle in hand, and preached Christ till the candle burned out in its socket and died away. That candle was symbolic of his life, which was also burned out and speedily dying away.
Richard Smith, a young man who traveled with him, reported that Whitefield awoke about 2 in the morning and seemed to pant for breath. "A good pulpit sweat to-day," he said, "may give me relief; I shall be better after preaching." Smith told him he wished he would not preach so often, but Whitefield answered, "I had rather wear out than rust out."
He woke again at 4. He got out of bed and opened the window, saying, "I am almost suffocated, I can scarce breathe." Mr. Parsons came in, and Smith went to bring the doctor. "On my coming back," he stated, "I saw death on his face. His eyes were fixed, his under-lip drawing inward every time he drew breath. . . ."
At 7 that morning, Sunday, September 30, 1770, George Whitefield ceased all struggle on earth, arid his soul took its flight to the presence of God. He entered the land for which he had been prepared by divine grace, the land for which he had longed and to which he had directed countless numbers of mankind. To the sorrow of thousands he was indeed "absent from the body," but to the inestimable delight of the Hosts of Heaven he was welcomed to be with Christ, which is far, far better. Of him Bunyan's oft-quoted words may well be used: "And all the trumpets sounded for him on the other side."