One Thing I Do! 4
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IV. And now, did time permit and necessity require, I would show what, in seeking "this one thing," Whitfield ACCOMPLISHED.
I might speak of the awakening of the spirit of piety so long slumbering beneath the towers of the established church, and the humbler fabrics of nonconformity; of the conversions to God of myriads of souls both in America and these kingdoms; of the erection of chapels large and commodious, both in this city and neighborhood, and in the metropolis; of the revival of evangelical religion within the pale of the church of England; of all that mighty moral machinery constructed for the world's conversion, which so remarkably distinguishes this age; Bible, missionary, and tract societies, which have all in some sense risen out of the Methodistic spirit of this prince of preachers, Whitfield, and of that still more extraordinary and more extensively and permanently useful man, John Wesley. But I pass over all this which will be brought before you this evening, and just mention one particular and isolated instance of his usefulness, the fruits of which remain with us to this day, and will remain in a printed form with the church of Christ when we are gone to our rest.
One venerable, venerated form still lingers among us, though now retired into the shades of dignified seclusion, and waiting amidst much infirmity and suffering for his dismission to his rest; one in whom the poetic words of Scripture have been so accurately and so beautifully fulfilled, "The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree, and grow like a cedar in Lebanon; he shall bring forth fruit unto old age." You will anticipate, perhaps, the name of Mr. Jay, for years the patriarch, and I may add, the glory of our ministry. In a letter I lately received from that hoary servant of our Lord, after referring with deep interest to these services, he says, in his own playful manner, "By the way I am a kind of grandson of Whitfield, he begat Winter, and Winter begat me."
And were Whitfield still alive, or could have visited our world in times past to hear Mr. Jay as we have heard him, or to read those ten precious volumes so full of the same great truths which he himself preached; volumes which will be read wherever the English language is known, and evangelical piety is loved—how would he have rejoiced over this his noble descendant, whose pen has made us more intimately acquainted with the subject of this discourse by his memoirs of Winter than we even were before; and who has told us just enough of his spiritual grandsire's weaknesses to prevent our admiration from being exaggerated into unseemly adulation. Peace to you, aged servant of the Lord, may He whom you have so long and so well served be with you in your retirement and render the late evening of your life as calm as your present sufferings will allow! May the clouds that have gathered round your setting sun only serve magnificently to reflect the luster of your graces!
V. And now, in CONCLUSION, beloved brethren, what further use shall we make of this day's services? What shall be our reflections, our purposes, and our doings? Shall it be all empty, ineffectual admiration and praise of Whitfield, or shall it issue in a revival of his spirit, in our churches and their pastors? Think not that by such an inquiry, I am suggesting that our times are like those, when he by the sovereignty of God was given with Wesley, to our country and the world; given as a seraph from heaven, to commence a new era in the history of the church. Christendom was then like the Dead Sea in which nothing lived—and his ministry was like the waters that issued from the temple and flowed through the desert into the sea, until everything lived where the river came.
There were no Sunday schools, no Bible, Missionary, or Tract Societies. The world was dead, the church asleep. What has not been done in the century which has elapsed since he left the scene? Could he come again upon earth, and drop down into our metropolis in the month of May, would he believe it was the same world? Say not, therefore, "Don't ask, 'Why were things better in the old days than they are now?' It isn't wisdom that leads you to ask this!" Still, I confess I am sometimes ready to ask—May not much of this be as the grass and flowers that bloom in the church-yard, verdure and beauty above, with decay and death beneath? Is the work of conversion going on with vigor under our ministry? Does the mighty wind which, at the sound of the prophet's voice, swept over the valley of dry bones, and caused first the shaking, then the vivification, and then the exceeding great army of living men—attend our ministry? My honored brethren, is it so? Does the quickening spirit enter dead souls with us, as might be expected if we were faithful and in earnest?
I know we may not expect all that was granted to Whitfield; nor may it be looked for that we should use all the means he used. There was no doubt much of sovereignty and peculiarity in his whole history. His wondrous oratory, the peculiarity of his times, the novelty of his measures, the daring courage of his lionhearted zeal, the exclusiveness of the pulpit as the means of popular instruction and conversion, gave him advantages which we do not possess. But have we not advantages which he did not possess? And is not God's mercy the same, Christ's death the same, the gospel the same—as they ever were? Have we not the same means of conversion to use, the same power of conversion to rely upon? Let us not lay the flattering unction to our souls and say, it is all to be resolved into divine sovereignty that we are not in some measure and according to our circumstances, as useful as he was. I admit that were he again upon earth, he would not altogether be as useful as he was when he was here, nor could he adopt all the measures he did. The times are changed, and measures and results change with them. But how intensely to be desired is it to have that seraphic, burning ardor, flaming at our great convocations, and kindling in our cold hearts a fire like that which glowed in his.
I tell you, brethren, it is the spirit of this devoted man accommodating itself to the circumstances of the age, that is needed, I mean the passion for saving souls. O could we this day, each and all of us, adopt the text as our motto; could we go home determined to take up this unity of purpose, this concentration of energy and effort, and resolve that the labors of the study and the pulpit, of the lecture and the Bible class, of our home and foreign service, shall all, all be poured into this one thing, the salvation of souls; could we, instead of attempting to preach great sermons, fine ones, eloquent ones, endeavor to preach good ones, and account those only good ones which tend to the good of souls—or could we strive to be great, eloquent, and even grand, as we might and should—but all to save souls; and were this to pervade our whole denomination—would we then have to complain of a lack of conversions?
What are we really doing for this?
I ask for no wild enthusiasm; no startling extravagance; no pulpit trickery; no spiritual eccentricities; nothing but what the soberest reason and the most intelligent religion will justify.
But I do want a more intense earnestness, a more inventive mind, a more eager desire. I want something more than effete formality and dull routine. I want all the concern, diligence, seriousness, awe, and trembling, which would be produced by a due sense of the value of souls, the danger of their being lost, and our responsibility for doing all we can to save them. My brethren, my brethren, souls are perishing all around us; "hell has enlarged herself, and opened her mouth without measure, and multitudes are descending into it." And here are we near this scene of destruction, to turn back the giddy throng, and prevent their rushing to destruction; and if in such a situation, and called to such an occupation, we can think of anything else but having compassion on their souls; saving them with fear, pulling them out of the fire; do we not deserve to perish ourselves, and is not this guilty indifference itself an evidence that we are on the road to perdition?
And what shall I now say to those who are not called to preach the word of life? Learn what kind of ministers the world needs for its regeneration, and which the church should ask of God. I admit, as I have already done, that the circumstances of the world and the church are in some measure altered, and that therefore we need pastors, somewhat different from this illustrious man—but still men imbued with his spirit, his piety, his dependence upon the Spirit of God, his love for souls, his devotedness, and his earnestness. Do not, I entreat you, corrupt the pulpit, and let not the pulpit corrupt you. You are right in demanding intelligence, learning, eloquence, elocution; but let not this be all you wish, and let it be your desire that all these may be baptized with the Spirit of God, consecrated at the cross, and employed in the salvation of souls. Be intent upon your own salvation. Be this your "one thing," and seek men who shall help you to accomplish it. Fix your eye, your heart, your hope, on eternal life, and consider that the chief design of the pulpit is to assist you to gain that.
Do not allow yourselves to be fascinated by the intellectualism to which the genius and eloquence of some few noted preachers and popular writers of modern times have given currency. And do not consent to be disciplined under such guidance, in the art and practice of listening to sermons as mere amateurs of elegant composition, and profound or picturesque thought. Do not, by your plaudits on such performances, draw your preachers, especially the younger ones, more and more into this style of preaching, the method of which is "to pass Christianity through the refining fire of each successive system of sentimental philosophy that attracts ephemeral attention." Believe me, there is some danger in this age of having both preachers and hearers drawn off from what is primary and fundamental, to what is merely secondary and circumstantial.
We are in many things improved, and I rejoice in the improvement; but the occasion of my joy is at the same time the occasion of my fear and my jealousy also. Our ecclesiastical architecture is just now a special object of our attention. Whitfield, it may be confessed, paid too little attention to this; we, perhaps, are paying too much. His only solicitude was to save souls, careless altogether of the tastefulness of the building within which his work, which had no relation to style of architecture, was carried on. His only calculation in the construction of a building was, how many immortal beings could be crowded within four square walls, and under a roof, to hear "the joyful sound." Hence the somewhat uncouth buildings which he erected. Ah—but when I consider that every stone in those unsightly walls has echoed to the sound of salvation and the hymns of redeemed spirits; and that almost every spot on the floor of those untasteful houses has been moistened by the tears of penitence, then, in a feeling of sanctity I seem to lose the sense of deformity, and there comes over me an awe and a solemnity which no Gothic structure, with its lofty arches and painted windows, can inspire.
But still, as religion is not only the most holy—but the most beautiful thing in God's universe, there is no reason why taste and devotion should not be united. It is the ministry of the word, however, upon which the church must be chiefly intent. The church has never been, since the apostles' days, nor was it even then, called to such a work as that which is now committed to it. God is evidently preparing his instruments and means for some mighty change in the world's condition. He is about to do a great work—but a work which he will not do without his people. He has in some measure awakened the church to a sense of her responsibilities. The Lord Jesus must have a church which will obey him, and he will have, as the latter day glory draws near, a church that will live for him, labor for him, and, if necessary, die for him. And if we will not make up our hearts to this tone of Christian enterprise, we had better die, and commit the interests of Christ to others, who will occupy for the Lord until he comes.
If, then, such must be the church, what must be its ministers? Look, I say again and again, at Whitfield, and see what kind of ministers you should pray for, when you beseech the Lord of the harvest to send forth laborers into his field. Of course I do not mean to say that we are to expect a race of such men as he, so gifted and extraordinary—this would be all but miraculous. But I do mean a race of men imbued with his spirit. Let it not be thought incredible, much less impossible, that such a ministry should be seen upon earth.
We may have them, and we must have them. The world is to be converted, and to be converted principally by preaching, and by preaching adapted to the mighty result; but the ears of men will never hear such preaching until the primitive love of Christ and of souls, the primitive self-denial, simplicity, boldness, gentleness, and zeal return to the ministry. How slow is the course of the gospel, for lack of preachers so replenished with grace by the unction of the Holy Spirit. Truly if ever there was a period when the whole Christian world should be upon their faces before the throne of mercy, imploring with all the importunity and boldness and perseverance of faith a race of ministers, each full of the Holy Spirit as were Barnabas and Paul, that period is the one now passing over us. Not from one place or another—but from all quarters of the earth, testimony multiplies daily, that, amidst the greatest possible facilities for converting the world, a ministry greatly increased in number and more devoted is indispensable.
This testimony comes to us, not indeed as the Macedonian cry came to the apostle, in a supernatural vision—but in a manner not less affecting or decisive as to import. It is a real sound, which flies round the land, and rings in our ears all day long. Send us earnest, devoted preachers, is the universal, ceaseless demand. The churches are beginning to feel, and blessed be God for it! that nothing short of intense earnestness will do. Send us preachers and pastors, not merely scholars and masters of arts, is the demand of the churches upon our colleges. It comes from hundreds of our churches; it comes from our cities, towns, and villages; it comes to us from distant islands and continents; it is brought to us by every ship that leaves our colonies, and in the letters that come from our emigrants; and what deserves especial remark, it is echoed and urged with chief earnestness by our evangelizing associations for the world's conversion.
Shall we, dear brethren, solemnly pledge ourselves this day to renewed, importunate, and believing prayer for another such sovereign visitation to the church and the world as was granted when he, whose name has been so often repeated in this discourse, commenced his glorious career? O where is the Lord God of Elijah—where the God of Whitefield?
Illustrious man! Where have you dropped your mantle—or have you carried it with you to glory? I seem to see your sacred form hovering over the assembly, as if interested in these services. The eye so often suffused with the tears of pity it wept over lost souls, beams upon us with affection. If those lips, once so mighty and so tender with the accents of redeeming mercy, were permitted once more to address us, and to deliver a message from God, we can suppose what you would say to us, and in imagination we will listen to it as a voice from the eternal world. "Sinners, repent, believe, and live. Christians, be holy, useful, and devoted. Ministers of the gospel, watch, pray, labor, live, for souls—as those who must give account. Occupants of this place of worship, honor my memory by cherishing the spirit that reared it." Farewell, dear saint! Return to your rest, while we depart to fulfill those solemn injunctions, by which, though dead, though have spoken to us.
And O eternal God, who sent forth your seraph with a live coal from the altar to touch the lips of your servant, perform the same gracious act for us, and kindle a flame of sacred love in these cold hearts of ours—and make your ministers a flame of fire!
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