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We recommend the facts here mentioned, and similar ones cc tained in this volume, to the notice of those who are at the prese day so much afraid of protracted meetings, or continued religio services, for a number of days or weeks. It seems that in Ph adelphia at least such extended services would be no new thin

The same might be said of morning prayer-meetings, or lecture which in parts of our country have met with so great oppositio Meetings at five o'clock in the morning were attended in Bosto by as many as two thousand persons. The particular instanc specified, of individuals awakened and brought to a saving a quaintance with Christ, by Whitefield's instrumentality, are ne merous. Many of his converts became preachers of the gospe and in their turn were the blessed instruments of turning multitude more from darkness to light. We might fill pages with extract: but have room only for the following. The first relates to young man, who from curiosity went to hear him:

• He preached that evening from Matthew iii. 7. “But when he say many of the pharisees and sadducees come to his baptism, he said unto them, O, generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the wrath to come ?” "Mr. Whitefield,” said the young man, “ described the sadducean character; this did not touch me. I thought my. self as good a christian as any man in England. From this he went to that of the pharisees. He described their exterior decency, but observed that the poison of the viper rankled in their hearts. This rather

At length, in the course of his sermon, he abruptly broke off; paused for a few moments; then burst into a flood of tears; lifted up his hands and eyes, and exclaimed, Oh, my hearers! The wrath's to come! the wrath's to come!These words sunk into my heart, like lead in the waters. I wept, and when the sermon was ended, retired alone. For days and weeks I could think of little else. Those awful words would follow me wherever I went, The wrath's to come! the wrath's to come !" The issue was, that the young man soon after made a public profession of religion, and in a little time became a considerable preacher. He himself related the foregoing ciicumstances a few years since, to the Rev. Andrew Fuller, of kettering' p. 150.

• The late Rev. Henry Tanner, of Exeter, in the year 1743, removed to Plymouth to obtain employment as a ship-builder; here it pleased God to call him by his grace, under the ministry of Mr. Whitefield. Being at work, he heard from a considerable distance the voice of that zealous man of God, who was preaching in the street, or fields, probably between Plymouth town and Dock: he immediately concluded that the preacher was a madman, and determined, with five or six more of his companions, to go and knock him off from the place on which he stood; and, for the purpose of more effectually injuring the mad parson, they loaded their pockets with stones. When, however, Mr. Tanner drew near, and perceived Mr. Whitefield extending his arms,

shook me.

and in the most pathetic language inviting poor lost sinners to Christ,

Tas struck with amazement. His resolution failed him; he listened with astonishment, and was soon convinced that the preacher was not nad; but was indeed speaking the “ words of truth and soberness.” Mr. Whitefield was then preaching from Acts xvii. 19, 20. “ May we bow what this new doctrine whereof thou speakest is ?--for thou tringest certain strange things to our ears.” He went home much impressed, and determined to hear him again the next evening. He attended." Mr. Whitefield was wonderfully fervent in prayer. His tent was Luke xxiv. 47 : " And that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.” After speaking of the heinous sin of the Jews, and of the Roman soldiers, who were the iustruments of perpetrating the cruel murder of the Lord of life, Mr. Whitefield, turning from the spot where Mr. Tanner then stood, near his side, said, “ You are reflecting now on the cruelty of those inhuman butchers, who imbrued their hands in his innocent blood;" when suddenly turning round, and looking intently at Mr. Tanner, he exclaimed, - Thou art the man !" These words, sharper than any two-edged sword, pierced him to the heart; he felt himself the sinner, who, by his iniquities, bad crucified the Son of God. His sins stared him in the face ; he knew not how to stand ; and in agony of soul he was forced to cry, “ God be merciful to me a sinner !The preacher then, in melting language, proclaimed the free and superabounding grace of God in Christ, which was commanded to be preached; first of all to Jerusalem sinners, the people who had murdered the Prince of life ; and from which a gleam of hope beamed into his heart. Under this sermon many other persons were convinced of sio, and brought to God. The next night Mr. Tanner heard_Mr. Whitefield preach again ; his subject was Jacob's ladder.” From this discourse he obtained such views of the person, character, and love of the great Mediator, as enabled him to lay hold on the hope set before him, and to rejoice in Christ Jesus.' pp. 105, 106.

The following extract relates to the Rev. Cornelius Winter, long an able and successful fellow laborer with Whitefield, in leading souls to Christ :

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On his first going to the Tabernacle, he was particularly struck with the largeness of the congregation; the solemnity that sat upon it; the melody of the singing ; Mr. Whitefield's striking appearance, and his eamestness in preaching. From this time prejudice had no more place in his breast; and he embraced every opportunity to hear him. Yet he had no knowledge of the evil of sin, and the depravity of his Dature

. On the 9th of April, 1760, being Wednesday in Easterweek, and the close of the holidays, as he was playing at cards with some of his companions in iniquity, recollecting he might that evening hear Mr. Whitefield, he broke off in the midst of the game, which much discomposed and enraged his companions, who suspected where he was going. It was a night much to be remembered. The scales of ignorance then fell from his eyes, a sense of his misery opened gradually to him, and he

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diligently inquired what he should do to be saved. He never played a game afterwards.' pp. 292, 298.

Some of the foregoing extracts show the opposition of feeling whic he was called to meet. This was evinced in a variety of way Sometimes he was ridiculed, and occasionally resort was had t open attacks upon his character or person. Nor was this all. H Н life was placed in jeopardy, as the following passages prove :

• While at Plymouth, four gentlemen came to the house of one o his particular friends, and with much seeming kindness, inquired afte him, desiring to know where he lodged ? Soon afterwards, Mr. White field received a letter, informing him, that the writer was a nephew o Mr. S an attorney at New-York; that he had the pleasure of supping with Mr. Whitefield at his uncle's house ; and desired his company

sup

with him and a few more friends, at a tavern. Mr. Whitefield sent him word, “that it was not customary for him to sup abroad at a tavern, but should be glad of the gentleman's company to eat a morsel with him at his lodgings." He accordingly came and supped; but was observed frequently to look around him, and to be very

absent. At last he took his leave, and returned to his companions in the tavern; and being by them interrogated, what he had done? He answered, that “ he had been used so civilly, he had not the heart to touch him.” Upon which, another of the company, a lieutenant of the navy,

of ten guineas, that he would do his business for him. His companions, however, took away his sword. It was midnight: and Mr. Whitefield having preached to a large congregation, and visited the French prisoners, had gone to bed; when the landlady came and told him, that a well dressed gentleman desired to see him. Mr. Whitefield imagining it was somebody under conviction, desired him to be brought up. He came and sat down by the bed-side, congratulated him on bis success in the ministry, and expressed much concern at being detained from hearing him. Soon after he broke out into the most abusive language; and in a cruel and cowardly manner, beat him in bed. The landlady and her daughter hearing the noise, rushed into the room, and siezed upon him ; but he soon disengaged himself from them, and repeated his blows on Mr. Whitefield ; who, being apprehensive that he intended to shoot or stab him, underwent all the surprise of sudden and violent death. Afterwards, a second came into the house, and cried out from the bottom of the stairs, “ take courage,

I am ready to help you.” But by the repeated cry of Murder the alarm was now so great, that they both made off.' pp. 103, 104.

Again, while in Ireland :

On Sunday afternoon, having preached in Oxmantown Green, á place much frequented by large parties of the Ormond and Liberty boys, as they were called, who often fought there, he very narrowly escaped with his life. It being war time, he had earnestly exhorted his hearers, as was his usual practice, not only to fear God, but also to

laid a wager

honor the king; and prayed for the success of his Prussian majesty's arins. While he was preaching, and earnest in prayer, some stones were thrown at him, which providentially did him no hurt. But when he had done, endeavoring to return the way that he came, by the barracks, to bis great surprise, access was denied : so that he was obliged to walk near half a mile over the green, through some hundreds of rioters, and buffoons, who, perceiving him to be alone, four preachers and a soldier having deserted him and Aed, threw showers of stones upon him from every quarter, which made him reel backwards and forwards, till he was almost breathless, and covered with a gore of blood.* At length, with the greatest difficulty, he staggered to the door of a minister's house near the green, which was humanely opened to him. For a considerable time he remained speechless, and gasping for breath ; but his weeping friends having given him some cordials, and washed his wounds, procured a coach, in which, amidst volleys of oaths, horrid imprecations, and violent threatenings of the rabble, he came safe home ; and joined in a hymn of thanksgiving with his mourning, yet rejoicing friends ; of whom he says, “none but spectators could form an idea of the affection with which I was received.”) pp. 176, 177.

Besides these methods of opposition, he was introduced on the stage, as one of the dramatis persona of a farce written for the purpose. None of these things, however, moved him from his duty. The incessant and extraordinary labors too in which he engaged so weakened his frame, that several times he was brought very low, and seemed just expiring. But he went forward like one who knew and felt that he had his work to perform; and who was determined to “count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ.”

We have neither time nor space to mention, much less to dwell upon, the many interesting circumstances connected with his eventful life ; and which tend to develop the peculiar characteristics of this indefatigable man. We hasten, therefore, to the close of his labors on earth. In September, 1769, he left England for the seventh and last time. After a delay of a few months from his arrival in Georgia, he proceeded northward, and reached Philadelphia during the early part of May, 1770. From hence he went to New-York, and thence to New-England. Preaching as he journeyed on, he reached Portsmouth, N. H.; from whence, under date of September 23, he thus writes: “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 not yet, for by riding sixty miles I am better, and hope to preach here to-morrow." The hour of release was indeed near at hand; for the above

*" I received many blows and wounds; one was particularly large and near my temples, I thought of Stephen ; and was in hopes, like him, to go off in ibis bloody triumph, to the immediate presence of my Master."

extract is taken from the last letter that he ever wrote. The account of his death and funeral is thus given :

On Saturday, September 29, 1770, Mr. Whitefield rode from Portsmouth to Exeter, (fifteen miles,) in the morning, and preached there to a very great multitude, in the fields. It is remarkable, that before he went out to preach that day, (which proved to be his last sermon,) Mr. Clarkson, senior, observing him more uneasy than usual, said to him, “ Sir, you are more fit to go to bed than to preach." To which Mr. Whitefield answered, “ 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. xii. 5.

“ Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith ; prove your own selves : know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates ?” He dined at captain Gilman's. After dinner, Mr. Whitefield and Mr. Parsons rode to Newburyport, I did not get there till two or three hours after them. I found them at supper. I asked Mr. Whitefield how he felt himself after his journey. He said, “he was tired, therefore he supped early, and would go to bed.” He ate a very little supper, talked but little, asked Mr. Parsons to discharge the table, perform family duty ; and then retired up stairs. He said, “that he would sit and read till I came to him," which I did as soon as possible; and found him reading in 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 the bedside, closed the evening with prayer. After a little conversation, he went to rest, and slept till two in the morning, when he awoke me, 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 told

me, “his asthma was coming on him again; he must have two or three days' rest. Two or three days' riding, without preaching, would set him 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 wished he would not preach so often. He replied, “ 1 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 the 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; and prayed for direction, whether he should winter at Boston, or hasten to the southward-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 laid himself down to sleep again. This was nigh three o'clock. At a quarter past four he waked, 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

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