Page:The Works of the Reverend George Whitefield, M.A. (1771 Vol 1).djvu/399

 LETTER CCCCXII.

To the same.

My dear Friend,     London, May 15, 1742.

FRESH matter of praise; bless ye the, for he hath triumphed gloriously. The battle that was begun on Monday, was not quite over till Wednesday evening, though the scene of action was a little shifted. Being strongly invited, and a pulpit being prepared for me by an honest quaker, a coal merchant, I ventured on Tuesday evening to preach at Mary le bon fields, a place almost as much frequented by boxers, gamesters, and such like, as Moor-fields. A vast concourse was assembled together, and as soon as I got into the field pulpit, their countenance bespoke the enmity of their hearts against the preacher. I opened with these words—"I am not ashamed of the gospel of, for it is the power of unto salvation to every one that believeth." I preached in great jeopardy; for the pulpit being high, and the supports not well fixed in the ground, it tottered every time I moved, and numbers of enemies strove to push my friends against the supporters, in order to throw me down. But the Redeemer stayed my soul on himself, therefore I was not much moved, unless with compassion for those to whom I was delivering my master's message, which I had reason to think, by the strong impressions that were made, was welcome to many. But satan did not like thus to be attacked in his strong-holds, and I narrowly escaped with my life: for as I was passing from the pulpit to the coach, I felt my wig and hat to be almost off. I turned about, and observed a sword just touching my temples. A young rake, as I afterwards found, was determined to stab me, but a gentleman, seeing the sword thrusting near me, struck it up with his cane, and so the destined victim providentially escaped. Such an attempt excited abhorrence; the enraged multitude soon seized him, and had it not been for one of my friends, who received him into his house, he must have undergone a severe discipline. The next day, I renewed my attack in Moor-fields; but would you think it? after they found that pelting, noise, and threatnings would not do, one of the merry Andrews got up into a tree very near the pulpit,