VISIT TO THE TOMB OF WHITEFIELD.

'Mighty through God.”—Paul.

In a late journey through New-England, I stopped at Newburyport to see the tomb of Whitefield. The visit will always be memorable to me. It suggested reflections impressive and profitable. Whitefield's name belongs to Methodism; his partial separation from Wesley was a misfortune, but his life was spent in the same great evangelical movement. We must not forget that he belonged to the "Oxford Club;" that he was the first of the little band that carried the true light into the coal mines of Kingswood, and the first who had the courage to preach in the open air. His stirring eloquence prepared the popular mind for the more systematic operations of Methodism in both England and America.

His remains are deposited in a vault under the Federal-street Church-a church in which he had often preached, and in sight of the house in which he expired. As we passed near the altar our attention was arrested by a massive marble cenotaph, erected to his memory by a wealthy gentleman of the town. The sexton, having lighted his lantern, led us into a little vestry behind the

pulpit, in the floor of which is a small trap-door. This he opened, and we descended into a dark apartment, much like a common cellar. On one side of this apartment is a door opening into the vault, which extends under the pulpit. We passed into it. The faint light of our lantern gave a solemn gloom to this dark but hallowed resting-place of the great modern evange

list. Three coffins lay before us; two containing the remains of ancient pastors of the church. The lid of each was open sufficiently to show the head and chest, and the skeleton faces stared at us with ghastly expression as we held over them our dim light. Our footsteps and our subdued voices called forth a faint and trembling echo, and even this tomb of glorified saints seemed instinct with the gloom and dread of death, reminding us of the doom of the fall.

A slight depth of black mold covered the bottom of Whitefield's coffin, and on this lay the bare bones. I took his skull into my hands, and examined it with intense interest. What thoughts of grandeur and power had emanated from that abode of the mind, and stirred with emotions the souls of hundreds of thousands -emotions which will quicken their immortality! I held it in silence, but my mind ran over the history of the "seraphic man ;" and

started, and endeavored to solve, a thousand queries respecting the attributes of his character, and the means of his wonderful power. My reflections followed me from the place. I asked myself what constituted the peculiar efficiency of Whitefield's preaching?

Doubtless, the first, the strongest cause of it, was that remarkable combination of the unction from above, the "Holy Ghost and power," with intense natural sensibility, which distinguished him. He was "full of faith and the Holy Ghost." In him religion was from the time of his conversion to his death a continual impulse; zeal for souls an unbroken spell. All his theological opinions, his ideas of sin and holiness, of heaven and hell, were not merely thoughts, but sentiments; not speculations, but unquestionable realities. They were appreciated by him as vividly as sensible facts are by ordinary men. This vivid spirituality inflamed his entire soul, and made him pass through the churches like an angel of light. A spiritual unction seemed to drip down his whole person, like the anointing oil that "went down to the skirts of Aaron's garments."

It has been said that all his sentiments were passions. Few, if any, ever had keener sensibilities. Remarkably strong affections cha

racterized the whole course of his life. "While seeking religion," he says, "God only knows how many sleepless nights I have lain on my bed, groaning under what I felt. Whole days and weeks have I spent lying prostrate on the ground in silent or vocal prayer." It was the working of his strong sensibility that gave a charm to his preaching, and drew, as by magic, the multitudes after him. Under his first sermon, it was reported that "fifteen persons were driven mad," that is, convicted of sin. His popularity was immediate and boundless. Speaking of one place, he says, "The whole city seemed alarmed, and the doctrine of the new-birth made its way like lightning into the consciences of the hearers." On visiting Bristol, multitudes came out of the city on foot and in coaches to escort him; and the people hailed him as he passed through the streets. His congregations were so crowded that he could with difficulty make his way to the pulpit. "Some hung upon the rails of the organ-loft, others climbed upon the leads of the church, and, altogether, made the church so hot with their breath, that the steam would fall from the pillars like drops of rain." Sometimes, after his preaching, the multitude, little children and old men, went weeping and wailing through the streets.

When he visited Scotland the second time, the people crowded to the shore at Leith, weeping and blessing him; they pursued his coach to Edinburgh, pressing to welcome him when he alighted, and to hold him in their arms. “The effect which he produced," says a distinguished writer, "was maddening." At Cambuslang it was incredible. He says, "I preached, at two, to a vast body of people, and at six in the evening, and again at nine. Such a commotion surely never was heard of, especially at eleven at night. For about an hour and a half there was such weeping, so many falling into deep distress, and expressing it in various ways, as is incredible. The people seem to be slain by scores. They are carried off, and come into the house like soldiers wounded in and carried off a field of battle. Their cries and agonies are exceedingly affecting. Mr. M. preached, after I had ended, till past one in the morning, and then could scarcely persuade them to retire; all night, in the fields, might be heard the voice of prayer and praise." On returning to administer the sacrament, he says, "Scarce ever was such a sight seen in Scotland. There were upward of twenty thousand persons. Two tents were set, and the holy sacrament was administered in the field. When I began