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

Of no portion of Whitefield's life are we so ignorant as of the journey he now made from New England to the South. Journal, letters, historians, and newspapers alike fail us. Gillies tells us only that from Boston he "proceeded to Rhode Island, and went onward through Maryland and Virginia, with a prospect so pleasing, that he lamented he had not come sooner. The whole country seemed eager to hear the gospel, many coming forty or fifty miles, and a spirit of conviction and consolation appeared in every congregation. Prejudices seemed to have fled; churches were opened to him; high and low, rich and poor, now seemed to think favorably of his ministrations; and many acknowledged what God had done for their souls through his preaching, when he was there before." It scarcely appears probable that he went from Rhode Island to Maryland by water; but if he did not, he must have passed through New York, New Jersey, and Philadelphia, and we feel somewhat of surprise that no records of the journey appear to have been preserved.

Dr. Franklin relates a very characteristic anecdote of Mr. Whitefield, which probably occurred in Philadelphia or its neighborhood at a period not later than this. "The eloquent orator" was preaching in an open field, when a drummer was present, who was determined to interrupt the preacher, and rudely beat his drum in a violent manner, in order to drown his voice. Whitefield spoke very loud, but could not make so much noise as the instrument. He therefore called out to the drummer, "Friend, you and I serve the two greatest masters existing, but in different callings. You beat up for volunteers for King George, I for the Lord Jesus: in God's name, then, let us not interrupt each other; the world is wide enough for both, and we may get recruits in abundance." This speech had such an effect on the drummer, that he went away in great good-humor, and left the preacher in full possession of the field.

Virginia, alike from the success of his former labors there, and from the general characteristics of the people, must have presented a scene of intense interest to Whitefield at this time. Everywhere great preparations were made for his coming, and large congregations assembled to hear him. It is said, that on one occasion, as he was speaking on the banks of one of the rivers of this noble province, and spoke of the strength of human depravity, and the insufficiency of the means of grace to convert the sinner without the influence of the Holy Spirit: "Sinners," said he, "think not that I expect to convert a single soul of you by any thing that I can say, without the assistance of Him who is 'mighty to save.' Go and stand by that river, as it moves on its strong and deep current to the ocean, and bid it stop, and see if it will obey you. Just as soon should I expect to stop that river by a word, as by my preaching to stop that current of sin which is carrying you to perdition. Father in heaven, see! they are hurried on towards hell; save them, or they perish!" The impression which this address produced on his hearers was so strong, that they were ready to respond with trembling, "Save, Lord; we perish!"

Whitefield must have been highly gratified on reaching Charleston, in attending the ordination of the young minister there, his first student from Bethesda, of whom we have already spoken as succeeding Mr. Smith; and not less would he rejoice that one of the actors at the Charleston theatre had been "snatched as a brand from the burning."

Though we have not the exact date of his arrival at Savannah, we know that he remained there but a very short time. His health again declined, his former vomitings returned with violence, and his animal spirits failed with his strength. In February, 1755, we again find him at Charleston; and in the latter end of March, he embarked for England, arriving, after a comparatively short voyage, at Newhaven, in Sussex, May the eighth.

Two strong impressions were made on the mind of Whitefield as he now looked on his native land. The first was that of grief on account of its condition. Nothing less than war with France was daily expected, for the French threatened to invade Britain, and were constantly making encroachments on her American colonies. "At this time," he says, "next to Jesus Christ, my king and my country were upon my heart, I hope I shall always think it my duty, next to inviting sinners to the blessed Jesus, to exhort my hearers to resist the first approaches of popish tyranny and arbitrary power. O that we may be enabled to watch and pray against all the opposition of antichrist in our own hearts; for, after all, there lies the most dangerous man of sin." His second feeling was one of holy joy; for during his absence the preaching of the gospel had been abundantly successful. He writes, "Glory be to the great Head of the church! The poor despised Methodists are as lively as ever; and in several churches the gospel is now preached with power. Many in Oxford are awakened to the knowledge of the truth; and I have heard almost every week of some fresh minister or another, who seems 'determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.'"

At the Tabernacle in London, as might be expected, Whitefield enjoyed what he terms "golden seasons;" but by this time not a few of the London clergy had begun to preach Christ with holy fidelity; and as this was the principal thing he desired, he says his "call to go abroad was still more clear." Indeed, so little did he now esteem London as a sphere of labor, and so much did he regard places by the amount of their destitution, that he wished at once to return to America, without ranging through England or Scotland. Hence he says, "Methinks I could set out for America to-morrow, though I have not yet entered upon my country range."

But if he loved America most, England loved herself more, and he was drawn again into Gloucestershire and Bristol. He went also, at the request of Lady Huntingdon, to dedicate the new Tabernacle at Norwich, to which we have already referred. At this last place, he says, August 30, 1755, "Notwithstanding offences have come, there has been a glorious work begun, and is now carrying on. The polite and great seem to hear with much attention; and I scarcely ever preached a week together with greater freedom." For a long period the work of God abundantly prospered in connection with this "Tabernacle." Two years after its dedication, the Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley preached some time in it, and had eight hundred communicants in fellowship, and he said of them, "Their experience, lives, and conversation are so excellent, that there is nothing like it in the whole kingdom."

On Whitefield's return to London, there were those who urgently entreated him to engage in a new controversy with the Messrs. Wesley, some of whose followers had been jealous of his success at Norwich. He declined, with his common remark, "I have no time for controversy," and reserved what he had to say till he could see them "face to face," simply writing to assure them that he had no party designs on foot.

Very soon after this, he set out for his northern circuit; and wonderfully indeed did the Lord grant him success. One thing, however, on this journey grieved him. His friends at Leeds, without his knowledge, had built a large church edifice. He saw at once, that this circumstance would create an "awful separation among the societies" formed by the Messrs. Wesley and his own friends; and lost no time in writing to those ministers, that they might endeavor to prevent a breach. Both the plan and the spirit of this undertaking so grieved him, that he exclaimed, "Oh this self-love, this self-will, is the devil of devils." This he wrote to Lady Huntingdon, a proof that party was not their object; and it is pleasant to add, that Whitefield's fears were groundless. Leeds, even then, contained population sufficient to fill both houses, and the whole movement "fell out rather to the furtherance of the gospel." During two months he preached twice, and some days three times, to greater numbers than ever before, inviting them to Christ, and "exhorting them to pray for King George, and the dear friends in America." He heard at this time, that the American ladies were making the soldiers' coats; and he immediately wrote to urge his own female friends in the new world to be "some of the most active in this labor of love."

Though Mr. Whitefield stood very high in the esteem of that class of ministers who embraced his views of evangelical truth, and who approved the plans he pursued for the evangelization of the world, they never considered him perfect, nor were some of them backward, when they deemed it needful, to reprove him. In a sermon he once preached in Haworth church, Yorkshire, of which his friend Grimshaw was the minister, having spoken severely of those professors of the gospel who, by their loose and evil conduct, caused the ways of truth to be evil spoken of, he intimated his hope, that it was not necessary to enlarge much on that topic to the congregation before him, who had so long enjoyed the labors of an able and faithful preacher; and he was willing to believe that their profiting appeared to all men. This latter expression roused Mr. Grimshaw's spirit, and notwithstanding his great regard for the preacher, he stood up and interrupted him, saying, with a loud voice, "O sir, for God's sake, do not speak so; I pray you, do not flatter. I fear the greater part of them are going to hell with their eyes open."

Notwithstanding the astonishing labors of Whitefield on this tour, he returned to London apparently in full flesh, and was congratulated by his friends on his improved appearance. Alas, all this, as he well knew, was disease, which indeed very soon became apparent. He was seized with inflammatory sore throat, that was followed by quinsy, assuming an almost fatal aspect. One physician prescribed silence and warmth, and the preacher "promised to be very obedient," but a few days afterwards, another recommended a perpetual blister: this proposal roused him, and he determined to try his own remedy – perpetual preaching. The remedy itself was painful, but he said, "When this grand catholicon fails, it is all over with me." At this time the sad news of the earthquake at Lisbon arrived in London; he was unable to preach on the subject, but when told of it he said, "Blessed be God, I am ready; I know that my Redeemer liveth. Oh that all in Portugal had known this! Then an earthquake would only be a rumbling chariot to carry the soul to God. Poor Lisbon, how soon are thy riches and superstitious pageantry swallowed up!"

In the winter of 1755-6, he was applied to to preach in the vicinity of the two great theatres, which he began to do in Long Acre chapel. Disturbances took place, and the Bishop of London interposed to stop him. In the end he erected Tottenham Court-road chapel, as already detailed in our third chapter.

Mr. Whitefield's ministry in London at this time was still successful. Thousands hung on his lips with delight, not a few of whom were won to the service of Christ. He tells us, among many similar facts, of the conversion of a Mr. Crane, who was afterwards appointed steward of the orphan-house in Georgia. This gentleman had one evening determined to visit the theatre, and set out for Drury-lane; that house being crowded, he resolved to go to Covent-garden; that also being so full that he could not obtain admittance, he changed his plan, and resolved on being entertained with one of Whitefield's sermons, and hastened to Tottenham Court-road chapel. It pleased God to impress the word on his heart, and he became an eminent Christian. So truly is the prediction verified, "I am found of them who sought me not."

During this year he published "A Short Address to Persons of all Denominations, occasioned by an Alarm of an intended Invasion." We have examined it, and not without pleasure. It is a faithful exposure of Popery and its bitter fruits.

It is a charge often preferred against the faithful ministers of Christ, by those whose consciences testify to their own guilt, that they are personal in their remarks, and mean to censure particular individuals. It is certain that this was often done by Mr. Whitefield, and sometimes with very happy effect. He once drew, from the conduct of his female servant, the picture of a Christian failing in his duty, which painfully distressed her, till he gave her an assurance of his entire forgiveness.

Nor was this the only time when his hearers were compelled to feel, "he means me." The celebrated comedian, Shuter, had a great personal regard for Mr. Whitefield, and not unfrequently attended his ministry. At one period of his popularity he was acting in a drama under the character of Ramble. During the run of the performance, he attended service at Tottenham Court chapel, and was seated in a pew exactly opposite the pulpit. Mr. Whitefield on that occasion gave full vent to his feelings, and in his own energetic manner invited sinners to the Saviour. While doing this, fixing his eye full on Shuter, he added, "And thou, poor Ramble, who hast long rambled from him, come also. Oh, end your rambling by coming to Jesus." Shuter was exceedingly struck, and going afterwards to Whitefield, he said, "I thought I should have fainted; how could you serve me so?"

In the early part of 1756, Whitefield was engaged in London, preaching and collecting for the poor not only at Bethesda, but also for the French Protestants. At the Tabernacle, a man came up to him in the pulpit, threatening his life, and handing him three anonymous letters denouncing sudden and certain death, unless he ceased to preach and to pursue the offenders by law. One of these letters Whitefield sent to the government, who at once offered a reward, and his majesty's pardon, to any one who would discover the writer. While this fact gratified, it also embarrassed him. He wrote to Lady Huntingdon, "My greatest distress is to act so as to avoid rashness on the one hand, and timidity on the other." For his own sake, he would not have cared about the matter; but looking at it as connected with the cause of civil and religious freedom, he wisely allowed the law to take its course at the hazard of his own life by assassination. Agreeably with the advice of the government, he carried the whole affair into the court of the King's Bench; this alarmed the offenders, and the annoyance ceased.

We next find him at Bristol, but not to rest, though the labors and anxieties of the winter and spring had nearly worn out his strength and spirits. Here he preached as usual, and then returned to London. During this journey he preached in several places in Gloucestershire, his native county, and in Bradford, Frome, Warminster, and Portsmouth, spending about three months in the tour.

In the county which gave Whitefield birth, is still to be seen a chair on which he often sat, and on which may be yet read the following lines:

"If love of souls should e'er be wanting here,
Remember me, for I am Whitefield's chair;
I bore his weight, was witness to his fears,
His earnest prayers, his interesting tears.
His holy soul was fired with love divine:
If thine be such, sit down and call me thine."

A very few weeks passed, and we find him in Kent. In a letter written July 27, after his visit to that county, he says, "The gospel flourishes in London. I am just returned from preaching at Sheerness, Chatham, and in the camp." On the next day he set off towards Scotland. On August 14, he writes from Sunderland, "How swiftly doth my precious time pass away! It is now a fortnight since I came to Leeds, in and about which I preached eight days, thrice almost every day, to thronged and affected auditories. On Sunday last at Bradford, in the morning, the auditory consisted of about ten thousand; at noon and in the evening, at Birstal, to nearly double the number. Though hoarse, I was helped to speak so that all heard. Next morning I took a sorrowful leave of Leeds, preached at Doncaster at noon, and at York the same night. On Wednesday, at Warstall, about fifty miles off; on Thursday, twice at Yarm; and last night and this morning, here." Wherever he labored, he heard of the good effects of his preaching in those places last year, and was constantly finding "many trophies of redeeming love." Such was the effect of the two sermons he preached at Birstal, that "several hundreds rode eight miles with him in the evening, singing and praising God."

In a day or two after this, we find him at Edinburgh and Glasgow, preaching, as usual, to vast crowds, and with his accustomed success. At the former places especially, even politicians gave him a cordial welcome, and thronged to hear him, while the newspapers applauded him for his spirit-stirring exposures of "Popish tyranny and arbitrary power." He preached twice every day in the Orphan-hospital park, and blended with almost every sermon rousing appeals to the Protestantism, courage, and loyalty of the Scotch. At the close of one of his sermons he pleaded the cause of the poor Highlanders, and collected at its close about three hundred dollars.

On his way back to London, Whitefield held a peculiarly solemn and refreshing meeting with his friends at Leeds; and after it, he braced his nerves by a tour of mountain preaching in company with his friend Grimshaw. But it was now late in October, and as he found "these cold countries bringing on his last year's disorder," and having, as he significantly says, "grown very prudent," he returned to London, and dedicated Tottenham Court-road church edifice. Another errand also had taken him to that city. The new governor of Georgia had sent for him, to consult with him before sailing to that colony. Whitefield met him, and was so much delighted with him, that he wrote off to Bethesda to prepare them for a state visit. He says, "Waited upon his excellency, and gave him, and all whom he pleases to bring, an invitation to Bethesda. Dear Mrs. C – will make proper provision." He went even farther, and proposed that the governor, if possible, should be received at Bethesda with military honors.

The success of his new house of worship in Tottenham Court-road showed the necessity and propriety of its erection on that spot. Several persons of distinction came, and engaged permanent seats; and the place was often so crowded, that hundreds were unable to obtain admission. It was now usual with him to preach about fifteen times every week, which, with a weak appetite, want of rest, and much care upon his mind, greatly enfeebled him. He writes, "But the joy of the Lord is my strength; and my greatest grief is, that I can do no more for Him who hath done and suffered so much for me."

In the following year, 1757, Whitefield planned another journey to Scotland, at the time the general assembly of the church was held. Before leaving London, he had placed the affairs of his projected college in the hands of Lord Halifax, and he now seems to have hoped that this journey to Scotland would have promoted that object, as well as others. It is said, that about a hundred ministers at a time attended his sermons, thirty of whom invited him to a public entertainment. Lord Cathcart, his majesty's commissioner to the assembly, also invited him to his own table. Whitefield says that he preached "just fifty times" on this visit, which extended to about a month.

From Scotland he went, in June, as we have seen, to Ireland, and enjoyed, in the midst of no small persecution, much preaching, and much success. On his return to London, he found that the governor of Georgia had visited Bethesda, and promised to communicate his sentiments to Lord Halifax, "concerning its being enlarged into a college;" but the pressure of public affairs hindered his application to the government. Bad news arrived from America, "about the fleet," and therefore Whitefield kept a fast-day at his houses of worship.

The health of our evangelist now sadly failed. He was brought to live on the "short allowance of preaching but once a day, and thrice on the Sunday;" very "short allowance" for him. Once, however, he broke through the restraint, and preached three times on the success of the king of Prussia; which, he says, "somewhat recovered" him, after he had been for a week at the gates of the grave. He was not able this winter to attempt what he considered great things; but Tottenham Court was his Bethel, as he called it. This house was then surrounded by a beautiful piece of ground, and he formed the plan of building on it an almshouse for "twelve godly widows," as a "standing monument that the Methodists were not against good works." This charity he soon carried into effect. His thoughts, however, were not confined to home. Although broken down in health and spirits, by weakness and want of rest, he watched the affairs of Prussia with intense interest, and assured the German Protestants, through Professor Francke, that "we looked on their distresses as our own."

In the spring of 1758, he laid the foundation-stone of his almshouse, and in June of the same year began to select its inmates. Pointing to these houses, some years afterwards, he said to a gentleman who was visiting him, "Those are my redoubts. The prayers of the poor women who reside in them, protect me in my house." Having arranged for the supply of his London pulpits, Whitefield went into the west of England, and proceeded from thence into Wales. But his health was so feeble, that he could not bear to drive, nor even ride in a one-horse chaise. The roads were rough, and riding shook him nearly to pieces. "Every thing," he says, "wearies this shattered bark now." A friend purchased for him a close chaise, advancing the money until he could conveniently repay it. He deeply felt this kindness, because by no other means could he have itinerated. "I would not," he says, "lay out a single farthing but for my blessed Master; but it is inconceivable what I have undergone these three weeks. I never was so before. O for a hearse to carry my weary carcass to the wished for grave." During all this tour he was unable to sit up in company even once; yet he often preached to ten or fifteen thousand people, and made their "tears flow like water from the rock." His views of himself at this time were more than usually humble. He said to Lady Huntingdon, "Oh, I am sick – sick in body, but infinitely more so in mind, to see so much dross in my soul. Blessed be God, there is One who will sit as a refiner's fire, to purify the sons of Levi. I write out of the burning bush. Christ is there; Christ is there!"

Among the many illustrations of Scripture which Whitefield often introduced into his sermons, one is truly worthy of record. Preaching from the words, "Wherefore, glorify ye the Lord in the fires," Isa. 24:15, he says, "When I was, some years ago, at Shields, I went into a glass-house, and standing very attentively, I saw several masses of burning glass of various forms. The workman took one piece of glass, and put it into one furnace, then he put it into a second, and then into a third. I asked him, 'Why do you put that into so many fires?' He answered me, 'Oh, sir, the first was not hot enough, nor the second, and therefore we put it into the third, and that will make it transparent.' 'Oh,' thought I, 'does this man put this glass into one furnace after another, that it may be rendered perfect? Oh, my God, put me into one furnace after another, that my soul may be transparent, that I may see God as he is.'"

In the month of July, Whitefield again set out for Scotland, preaching on his way in many pulpits, including "Bishop Bunyan's," as he used to call him, at Bedford, Berridge's at Everton, and Doddridge's at Northampton. Four Episcopal clergymen lent him their pulpits. His health received, for some time, little benefit, so that he sometimes feared he must return. But he adds, "Through divine strength, I hope to go forward; and shall strive, as much as in me lies, to die in this glorious work." He preached and collected in Scotland with his accustomed energy and success, and returned to London with his health somewhat renovated. This year he lost by death some of his earliest and warmest friends, including Hervey in England, and Presidents Burr and Edwards, and Governor Belcher, in America. Such removals gave him also "a desire to depart," but his work on earth was not yet done.

Three principal facts connected with our evangelist may be said to mark the year 1759. One was, that he had the satisfaction to clear off all his debts for the orphan-house. "Bethesda's God," he writes, "lives for ever, and is faithful and all-sufficient." He longed again to visit America, but several difficulties intervened for the present.

A second event which marked the year, was another journey to Scotland. He complains in his letters, that though his congregations at Edinburgh and Glasgow were never more numerous and attentive, yet, with respect to the power of religion, it was a dead time in Scotland, in comparison with London and several other parts of England. His presence in Scotland, however, at this time was very important, especially in collecting for his orphan-house and the Highland Society for the support of children. Many Scottish soldiers were now in America, which greatly increased the interest felt in every thing relating to it.

In this year, 1759, Mr. Whitefield also for the first time visited Brighthelmstone, now called Brighton, a very fashionable watering-place, where George IV. afterwards, while regent, built a tawdry tasteless palace. The preacher's first sermon was delivered under a tree in a field behind the White Lion inn. Among his congregation on that day was a young man named Tuppen, about eighteen years of age. He had been educated by a pious mother in the strict observance of the external parts of religion, but was entirely destitute of its power. He attended not so much from curiosity, as from the intention to insult and interrupt the preacher. He tells us, "I had therefore provided myself with stones in my pocket, if opportunity offered, to pelt the preacher; but I had not heard long, before the stone was taken out of my heart of flesh; and then the other stones, with shame and weeping, were dropped one by one out upon the ground." The words, "Turn ye, turn ye," became the means of turning him from sin to God. Mr. Tuppen became an excellent Christian minister, and labored as a pastor for some years in Portsmouth. He then removed to the city of Bath, where he originated a congregation, and built a house for public worship. He was succeeded in this important sphere by the late distinguished William Jay, who labored there for about sixty-four years.

Such was the prosperity attendant on the efforts of Messrs. Whitefield, Madan, Romaine, Berridge, Venn, and Fletcher, at Brighton, that Lady Huntingdon felt it her duty to erect a church edifice there, and being unable to do it in any other way, sold her jewels to the amount of nearly three thousand five hundred dollars. The cause still flourishes there, and very many have been turned to righteousness.

While Whitefield's ministry at the Tabernacle was at its height of popularity, Foote, a comedian of eminent talent for mimicry, who was frequently in difficulties on account of his love of ridicule, by which indeed his life was shortened, employed his wit to bring the distinguished preacher into contempt. One of his biographers says, that "very pressing embarrassments in his affairs compelled him to bring out his comedy of 'The Minor,' in 1760, to ridicule Methodism, which, though successful, gave great offence, and was at last suppressed." Of this miserable piece of buffoonery, it may be enough to say, that Foote, and the agents employed at the Tabernacle and Tottenham Court-road chapel to collect materials from Whitefield for the accomplishment of their object, were so disgracefully ignorant of the inspired writings, as not to know that what they took for Mr. Whitefield's peculiar language was that of the word of God.

Lady Huntingdon interposed in the matter, first with the Lord Chamberlain, by whose license alone any play could then be performed in London, and then with Mr. Garrick, the latter of whom assured her that he would use his influence to exclude it, and added, that had he been aware of the offence it was adapted to give, it should never have appeared with his concurrence. The representation of this piece of mummery, as might have been expected, considerably increased Whitefield's popularity, and brought thousands of new persons to hear the gospel: thus Providence gave him the victory over his opposers.

To report the sicknesses, the labors, and the successes of Whitefield from this time to that of his sixth embarkation for America, would be little more than a repetition of the past. Suffice it to say, that in England, and in Scotland, he labored amid much ill-health, and surrounded with many dangers; but at length, having found an Episcopal clergyman, the Rev. John Berridge, a man of somewhat eccentric manners, but of great learning, of eminent piety, and of burning zeal, who was willing to labor for a time in London, Whitefield set sail in the ship Fanny, Captain Archibald Galbraith, bound from Greenock to Virginia, June 1, 1763, and arrived at Rappahannock, after a tedious, but otherwise pleasant voyage of about twelve weeks, in the last week of August.

CHAPTER XIV.

SIXTH VISIT AND LABORS IN AMERICA – RENEWED LABORS IN GREAT BRITAIN.

1763-1767

Whitefield was now for the sixth time in America. He was twelve weeks on the voyage; but though tedious, it had done him good. "I enjoyed," he says, "that quietness which I have in vain sought after for some years on shore." Owing to the violence of his asthma, he had set sail "with but little hopes of farther public usefulness;" but after being six weeks at sea, he wrote to a friend, "Who knows but our latter end may yet increase? If not in public usefulness, Lord Jesus, let it be in heart-holiness. I know who says Amen. I add, Amen and amen."

On his arrival in Virginia, Whitefield was surrounded by many Christian friends, the fruits of his former labors in that colony, but whom he had not hitherto known. It was with great difficulty, however, that he preached to them; for though his general health was better, his breathing was very bad. The months of September, October, and November, he spent in Philadelphia. He says, "Here are some young bright witnesses rising up in the church. Perhaps I have already conversed with forty new creature ministers of various denominations. Sixteen popular students, I am credibly informed, were converted in New Jersey college last year. What an open door if I had strength! Last Tuesday we had a remarkable season among the Lutherans; children and grown people were much impressed." Ill as he was, he preached twice a week, and with his usual success.

He intensely desired at this time to visit Georgia, but was absolutely prohibited by his physicians, till he had recovered his strength. In the end of November, therefore, he passed over into New Jersey, visiting the college, and Elizabethtown. He tells us that at the college he had "four sweet seasons." His spirits rose at the sight of the young soldiers who were to fight when he had fallen. It was now winter, and "cold weather and a warm heart" put him in good spirits, so that he was able to preach three times a week.

A young man, a member of the college, hearing that Whitefield was to preach in the neighborhood, and being more than a little anxious to ascertain whether he really deserved all the celebrity he enjoyed, went to hear him. The day was very rainy, and the audience was small; the preacher, accustomed to address thousands, did not feel his powers called forth as at other times. After having heard about one-third part of the sermon, the young man said to himself, "The man is not so great a wonder after all – quite commonplace and superficial – nothing but show, and not a great deal of that;" and looking round upon the audience, he saw that they appeared about as uninterested as usual, and that old father – , who sat directly in front of the pulpit, and who always went to sleep after hearing the text and plan of the sermon, was enjoying his accustomed nap. About this time, Whitefield stopped. His face went rapidly through many changes, till it looked more like a rising thunder-cloud than any thing else; and beginning very deliberately, he said, "If I had come to speak to you in my own name, you might rest your elbows upon your knees, and your heads upon your hands, and sleep; and once in a while look up and say, 'What does the babbler talk of?' But I have not come to you in my own name. No; I have come to you in the name of the Lord God of hosts, and" – here he brought down his hand and foot at once, so as to make the whole house ring – "and I must, and will be heard." Every one in the house started, and old father – among the rest. "Aye, aye," continued the preacher, looking at him, "I have waked you up, have I? I meant to do it. I am not come here to preach to stocks and stones; I have come to you in the name of the Lord God of hosts, and I must, and I will have an audience." The congregation was fully aroused, and the remaining part of the sermon produced a considerable effect.

From New Jersey, Whitefield passed on to New York, where he says, "Such a flocking of all ranks I never saw before at New York… Prejudices have most strangely subsided. The better sort flock as eagerly as the common people, and are fond of coming for private gospel conversation. Congregations continue very large, and I trust saving impressions are made upon many." Such also was his influence as a philanthropist, that though prejudices ran high against the Indians, on account of a threatened insurrection in the south, he collected about six hundred dollars for Dr. Wheelock's Indian school at Lebanon, Conn., which he soon after visited with much pleasure.

An extract of a letter from New York, dated Jan. 23, 1754, which appeared in the Boston Gazette, may show the esteem in which he was held: "The Rev. George Whitefield has spent seven weeks with us, preaching twice a week, with more general approbation than ever; and has been treated with great respect by many of the gentlemen and merchants of this place. During his stay he preached two charity sermons, the one on the occasion of the annual collection for the poor, in which double the sum was collected that ever was upon the like occasion; the other was for the benefit of Mr. Wheelock's Indian school at Lebanon, for which he collected, notwithstanding the present prejudices of many people against the Indians, the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds. In his last sermon, he took a very affectionate leave of the people of this city, who expressed great concern at his departure. May God restore this great and good man, in whom the gentleman, the Christian, and accomplished orator shine forth with such peculiar lustre, to a perfect state of health, and continue him long a blessing to the world and the church of Christ."