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reach in their pulpits again. By and by all the churches were closed against him, and there was nowhere but the prison where he was allowed to preach. Soon the mayor of Bristol closed that door also. Poor Mr. Whitefield! what could he do now? I think I know one thing he would do. He would turn to his Bible, and there he would read: "In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths." In the next chapter you shall hear how God fulfilled His promise to George Whitefield. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XVI. Kingswood.--Grimy colliers.--The shocking thing is done.--A beautiful church.--From 200 to 20,000.--John Wesley shocked.--Drawing lots.--To be or not to be.--To be.--Mr. Wesley gets over the shock.--George Whitefield's "good-bye" to the colliers. LONG, long ago, before all this happened that I have been telling you, there was a forest near Bristol where the kings of England used to hunt, Kingswood it was called. But at the time of which I write, most of the trees had been cut down; a great many coal mines had been dug, and the people who lived round about and worked in the mines were a wild and wicked lot. They had no churches, and those in Bristol were three or four miles away. Surely, Mr. Whitefield thought, these people ought to have the gospel of Jesus Christ preached to them; they have no church, it cannot be wrong to preach to them in the open air. So, one Saturday in this year, 1739, Mr. Whitefield set off to Kingswood. It was a cold winter's day, but his heart was warm inside with love for these poor neglected colliers, and he soon got warm outside with his long walk. When he reached Kingswood he found an open space called Rose Green, which he thought was just the place for a service. Standing on a little mound which did for a pulpit, he commenced to preach; and surely that was the grandest church in which a Methodist minister ever held a service. The blue sky of heaven was his roof, the green grass beneath him the floor; and as Mr. Whitefield stood in his FIRST FIELD PULPIT, his thoughts went back, down the ages, to the dear Master whose steps he was seeking to follow--the Preacher of Nazareth, whose pulpit was the mountain-side, and whose hearers were the publicans and sinners. Two hundred grimy colliers stood and listened to that earnest young preacher. Mr. Whitefield continued his visits t
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