Staunton Spectator

Whitefield and the Thunder-Storm.
On one occasion, Mr. Whitefield was preaching in Boston, on the wonders of creation, providence and redemption, when a violent tempest of thunder and lightning came on. In the midst of the sermon it attained to so alarming a height that the congregation sat in almost breathless awe. The preacher closed his note-book, and stepping into one wing of the desk, fell on his knees, and with much feeling and fine taste repeated:
Hark! The Eternal rends the sky!
A mighty voice before Him goes—
A voice of music to His friends,
But threatening thunder to his foes,
Come, children, to your Father's arms;
Hide in the chambers of my grace.
Till the fierce storm be overblown,
And my revenging fury cease."
"Let us devoutly sing, to the praise and glory of God, this hymn: Old Hundred'"
The whole congregation instantly rose, and poured forth the sacred song, in which they were nobly accompanied by the organ, in a style of pious grandeur and heart-felt devotion that was probably never surpassed. By the time the hymn was finished, the storm was hushed; and the sun, bursting forth, showed through the windows to the enraptured assembly, a magnificent and brilliant arch of peace. The preacher resumed the desk and his discourse, with this apposite quotation:
"Look upon the rainbow; praise him that made it. Very beautiful it is in the brightness thereof! It compasseth the heaven about with a glorious circle; and the hands of the Most High have bended it."
The remainder of the services was calculated to sustain that elevated feeling which had been produced; and the benediction with which the good man dismissed the flock was universally received with streaming eyes and hearts overflowing with tenderness and gratitude.