George Whitefield - Philip - XXVIII - Chapter 30

Required reading
Life and times of George Whitefield by Robert Philip (available from Amazon or free on the internet, here for example) - Read Chapter 30 (Whitefield's last itineracy).

My summary
Firstly in this chapter we read of Whitefield's last preaching efforts in America: from Philadelphia to New York to Boston.

Then we read a first-hand account of the death of Whitefield from an asthma attack.

To finish the chapter, Philip basically gives an exposition of Revelation 14:13, 'their works do follow them'.  He repeatedly exhorts the reader to remember that their works do follow them and so we should all be 'Whitefields in something': 'For no christian is so poor, nor so busy, nor so weak, as to be unable to work for God.  The weakest and the poorest are able to do work which neither earth nor hell can destroy or stop, and which will be their reward through eternity.'

What grabbed me
Many things grabbed me in this chapter, particularly the importance of being as useful in this life to the Lord as possible.

But I think I should quote the entire account of Whitefield's death as it was indeed gripping: 'Mr. Richard Smith, who attended Mr. Whitefield from England to America the last time, and was his constant companion in all his journeyings while there, till the time of his decease, has given the following particular account of his death and interment:—

"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. xiii. 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 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 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, and perform family duty; and then retired upstairs. 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's Psalms lying open before him. He asked me for some water gruel, and took about half his usual quantity; and kneeling down by the bed-side, 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,' 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 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 Tabernacle and chapel congregations, and all connexions 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 Haverill, 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 bed-side, and asked him how he felt himself. He answered, ' I am almost suffocated. I can scarce breathe, my asthma quite chokes me.' I was then not a little surprised to hear how quick, 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,' / 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,' / am dying.' His eyes were fixed, hi6 under lip drawing inward every time he drew breath; he went towards the window, and we offered him some warm wine, with lavender drops, which he refused. 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 the glass of warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed as if it would have stopped his breath entirely. In a little time he brought up a considerable quantity of phlegm and wind. 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, &c. 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 indeed so 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: I begged the doctor to shut the door." Smith. '

And so ended the life of one who poured himself out in the service of the Lord.  May God raise up more Whitefield's in the generations to come.

Next week's reading
Read Chapter 31 (Whitefield's funeral).

Now it's your turn
Please post your own notes and thoughts in the comments section below.