George-Whitefield-Field-Preacher

MEETINGS AND PARTINGS 43
strained lo throw myself prostrate on the ground, and otier my soul as a
blank in His hands, to write on it what He pleased. One night was a time
never to be forgotten. It happened to lighten exceedingly. I had been
expounding to many people, and some being afraid to go home, I thought
it my duty to accompany them, and improve the occasion, to stir them up
to prepare for the second coming of the Son of man ; but oh ! what did
my soul feel ? On my return to the parsonage-house, whilst others were
rising from their beds, and frightened almost to death, to see the lightning
run upon the ground, and shine from one part of the heaven to another,
I and another, a poor but pious countryman, were in the field praising,
praying to, and exulting, in our God, and longing for that time when Jesus
shall be revealed from heaven in a flame of fire ! O that my soul may
be in a like frame when He shall actually come to call me !
The gentleness and sweetness of spring also had their
attractions for him ; it was early in May, and the country, he
says, 'looked to me like a second paradise, the pleasantest
place I ever was in through all my life.' The thought of leaving
Stonehouse people, with whom he ' agreed better and better,'
touched his affectionate heart not a little, and he wrote to
a friend :
' I believe we shall part weeping.' There had been
but a month's short intercourse with them, and they were the
flock of another pastor ; but it was Whitefi eld's way to love
people and to labour for them as if he had known them a life-
time, never jealous of any one, nor dreaming that any one could
be jealous of him ; and when he took his leave on Ascension
Day, 'the sighs and tears,' he says, 'almost broke my heart.'
The guest whom Stonehouse was sorry to part with, Bristol
was glad to receive ; indeed the people there, gratefully remem-
bering Whitefield's visit to them in February, insisted upon
his coming to see them again. The account of their enthusiastic
reception of him reads more like an extract from the journal
of a conquering general, or from that of a prince on a progress
through his provinces, than that of a young clergyman, twenty-
two years old. Multitudes on foot and many in coaches met
him a mile outside the city gates ;
and as he passed along the