Had I a hundred hands, I could employ them all. The harvest is very great. I am ashamed I can do no more for him who has done so much for me.

Let the name of Whitefield perish, but Christ be glorified

I would rather wear out than rust out.

The Christian world is in a deep sleep; nothing but a loud shout can awaken them out of it!

You blame me for weeping, but how can I help it when you will not weep for yourselves, though your immortal souls are on the verge of destruction.

Know, by sad experience, what it is to be lulled to sleep with a false peace. Long was I lulled asleep; long did I think myself a Christian, when I knew nothing of the Lord Jesus Christ.

O poor New England! There is a deep laid plot against your civil and religious liberties, and they will be lost. Your golden days are at an end. You have nothing but trouble before you. . . . Your liberties will be lost.