Chapter IV: Part 4

But where was my poor horse. His turn had come to be wet with sweat, and to shake with cold. A friend stood at the door watching for my arrival, who took the poor creature, and, as I supposed, took care of it. But he simply tied it to the fence with a rope. Heated, wet, and without blanket, it had to stand in the keen wind one hour and a half, trembling with cold until it was ruined. The next morning there was seen in the poor creature a clear case of chest-founder. It is a shame to treat God’s poor creatures thus. I learned from this sad circumstance never to leave my horse without full directions as to its wants.

The large house of worship was crowded with attentive hearers three times each day, till my time came to hasten to the next place. On Sunday, the Presbyterian minister had thirteen hearers. On Monday he came to hear me, and as I passed down the symbols of Daniel viii, and began to apply the specifications of the little horn of that chapter to the historical facts of Rome, he broke in upon me, saying:

“You mislead your hearers. Antiochus, and not Rome, is the subject of this prophecy.”

“Please wait, sir,” was my reply, “till I have finished speaking, then you can talk as long as the people wish to hear you. Be patient, and hear me while I show that Rome, and not Antiochus Epiphanes, is the subject of the prophecy.”

The matter was made quite plain, and the minister was told that he could speak. He rose, but his subject was the temporal millennium. All his propositions and proof-texts, which he tediously brought forward, had been examined in my first lecture. But it seemed necessary to briefly reply, notwithstanding it was little more than to repeat the same in the ears of nearly the same congregation. As I closed, a tall, rough-looking, red-shirted lumberman rose up in the house and said:

“The difficulty with Elder Merrill is that he is not ready, and is afraid the Lord will come.”

The benediction repeated, the meeting closed. Good fruits followed in this place.

At Brunswick, I had a candid hearing in what was called Elder Lamb’s meeting-house, a very large house of worship. My stay was brief, and most of the members of that numerous church were rich and worldly. They had not sufficient interest to even oppose me. So they heard me with a degree of apparent interest, amounting to little more than curiosity, and let me go.

At Bowdoin, Elder Purington received me as a brother, and stood by me till my work was done in that place. The large house of worship was crowded. The people listened with deep interest and feeling. The Universalists sent a few questions to the desk in writing, which I enjoyed answering. Sinners manifested their desire for salvation, and those who loved Christ and his appearing rejoiced in the Advent hope and faith.

Litchfield Plains was my next place of labor. The house was crowded the first evening. In fact, it was with difficulty that I found my way to the pulpit. To call the people to order, the first words they heard from me were in singing,

“You will see your Lord a coming,
You will see your Lord a coming,
You will see your Lord a coming,
In a few more days,
While a band of music,
While a band of music,
While a band of music,
Shall be chanting through the air.”

The reader certainly cannot see poetic merit in the repetition of these simple lines. And if he has never heard the sweet melody to which they were attached, he will be at a loss to see how one voice could employ them so as to hold nearly a thousand persons in almost breathless silence. But it is a fact that there was in those days a power in what was called Advent singing, such as was felt in no other. It seemed to me that not a hand or foot moved in all the crowd before me till I had finished all the words of this lengthy melody. Many wept, and the state of feeling was most favorable for the introduction of the grave subject for the evening. The house was crowded three times each day, and a deep impression was made upon the entire community.

West Gardiner was my next point. Elder Getchel received me like a brother, and seemed to have a good interest in the subject. The people in this part of the town were nearly all Freewill Baptists. There had been one large church in the place, composed mostly of farmers possessing more wealth than piety. A part of the church had wanted a popular minister, and because they were opposed in this by a more humble portion, drew off in a church by themselves, built a fine house, and employed a preacher that pleased them. Here stood in full view two Freewill Baptist meeting-houses, each occupied every Sunday by two ministers of the same denomination, not always on friendly terms. It was a hard place to labor.

While the members of these churches had been occupied with the division in their midst, they had been destitute of the spirit of reformation, and their children had grown nearly to manhood without conversion. These were much affected by my lectures, and sought the Lord, while their parents seemed unmoved. I will leave this place in my narrative, for the present, to return again, as I have something more to relate of the good work here in its proper place.

According to arrangements at the quarterly meeting at Richmond village, I filled all my appointments, and saw in every place more or less of the work of God before I left. But the lectures were usually followed by protracted meetings, and large accessions were made to these churches. At the next quarterly meeting it was publicly stated that within the limits of that quarterly meeting, one thousand souls dated their experience from my lectures during that six weeks.

The second day of April, 1843, I mounted my poor, chest-foundered horse, and started for my native town, much worn by the labors of the winter. The snow was very deep. My horse’s feet were much of the time, while passing over the drifts, higher than the tops of the fence-posts. My only suit of clothes was much worn, and I had no money. I had not received the value of five dollars for my labors. Yet I was happy in hope. As I journeyed homeward, my horse became very much irritated with frequent turning out into the deep snow and sharp crust in passing teams. Several times while passing women and children he crowded nearly into the sleighs where they were. And fearing that he might seriously injure some one, I decided that it was safest, as teams approached, to dismount, crowd the horse out of the road, and hold him with a firm hand until they passed.

As I was entering the city of Augusta, a farmer was returning home with an empty hay-sled, drawn by six oxen. I chose to ride past this team. The driver sat on the fore part of the sled, and the oxen kept the middle of the road. On being crowded out of the road, my horse became very angry, and as the sled was passing, threw himself over the first set of stakes on to the sled. Seeing strong probabilities that I should be thrown on some one of the second set of sharp stakes and killed, I sprang from the horse, quite over the stakes, into the snow on the other side. The team continued to move along with my horse fairly loaded upon the sled; and, by the time I had rescued myself from the snow, was several rods from me.

“Halloo!” cried I. “Please stop your team and let me have my horse.”

The good farmer stopped his oxen, and assisted me in unloading my horse, which, when I had mounted, galloped off as well as before.

Rain came on, and the firmly-trodden drifts became soft, so that my horse with my weight upon him would frequently sink to his body in the snow. I rode all day with my feet out of the stirrups, and as he would plunge into the snow, I would instantly slide off and relieve him of my weight, that he might better struggle out, or if he could not do this alone, assist him by lifting where most needed.

April 5, I reached my father’s house, and, after resting a few weeks till the ground settled, returned to my field of labor, and was rejoiced to learn that the spirit of reformation had swept over the entire field. But the time had fully come for the people in farming districts to hasten out upon their lands, and I found but little chance to get a general hearing excepting on Sunday. However, I soon had a call to labor in East Augusta.

But before going to this place I dreamed that an ox, with very high horns, was pursuing me with very great fury, and that I was fleeing before him for my life. He followed me so closely that I sprang into a house near by and bolted the door. The ox broke down the door and entered. I left the house through an open window, and escaped to the barn. The ox broke down the barn door and entered. I escaped by another door, and as my last resort for safety, crept under the barn floor. The ox tore up the planks with his horns, and drove me from under the barn. And as he was pursuing me in the open field, I felt his horns goading my back. At that moment wings were given me, and I arose and flew with ease to the roof of the house. The disappointed ox stood looking at me, frequently shaking his horns, and appeared wild with rage. My deliverance was complete, and exultingly I flew from the house near the head of the ox, then quickly arose to the roof of the barn. This repeated several times, I awoke. This dream made quite an impression upon my mind, but soon passed from me, and I thought no more of it until brought to my mind by what occurred in connection with my labors at East Augusta.

As I entered the school-house to meet my first appointment, the only person present was a tall, athletic man, in the middle age of life. As it was a cool evening, he was kindling a fire. He spoke to me in a tone of kindness, but eyed me closely. I was afterward told that Walter Bolton, for this was his name, was an infidel. He was regarded as a good citizen, but had never before been known to take any interest in religious meetings. He attended all my lectures, and seemed deeply interested, and I often heard remarks from his neighbors like this: “What has got hold of Walter Bolton to call him out to these meetings? I never saw him in a religious meeting before, unless it were a funeral.” We will leave Mr. Bolton for the present, and pass to other features of this series of meetings.

During the week I gave lectures each evening to small congregations. But Sunday morning, at an early hour, the house was crowded. My subject was the millennium. I labored to show,

1. That those texts usually quoted to prove the conversion of the entire world, did not prove what they are said to prove.

2. What those texts do teach. In speaking upon Isa. lxv, I showed that it was not in this mortal state, upon this old sin-cursed earth, that the leopard would lie down with the kid, and the lion eat straw like the ox, but in the new earth, as plainly declared by the prophet. That beasts, restored from the effects of the curse, would be no more out of their proper places in the earth restored, than when created upon it before the fall.

3. That certain texts in the Old and New Testaments, in most distinct and emphatic language, teach that at no period of man’s fallen condition will all men be holy.

At the close of this discourse, a Universalist preacher present arose and said:

“I want five minutes to show that this doctrine has no foundation in the Bible, or in common sense.”

He had been a regular Baptist minister, had engaged in trade, and in the sale of liquor, had backslidden, and was preaching the unconditional salvation of all men.

“You will want more than five minutes, sir, to do that,” I replied. “It is already half past twelve, and the people need rest and refreshment. When I have closed this afternoon, you can speak as long as they wish to hear you.”

“No; this is just the place and time for me to speak, and the people want to hear me.”

“We will submit the matter to the congregation, and let them decide it for us,” was my reply. I then asked those who agreed with me that the gentleman had better wait till afternoon, to rise up. Nearly the entire congregation were at once on their feet. I then asked those who chose to have him speak immediately to arise. Ten or twelve young men, who looked like finished ruffians, arose. The congregation was immediately dismissed for one hour.

In the afternoon I spoke upon Matt. xxiv, and, expecting a battle with the Universalist preacher, gave some time to the examination of the view that Christ came the second time at the destruction of Jerusalem. My arguments told on the congregation, and the minister felt it. When I had closed my discourse, I said, “There is now room for that gentleman to speak as long as the people wish to hear him.” He arose embarrassed, and said in substance:

“I do not want to act the part of the scoffer, or fall under the denunciation of him who says, ‘My Lord delayeth his coming, and smites his fellow servant;’ but I wish to make a few remarks relative to a portion of scripture commented upon by the speaker this forenoon, which you will find in the sixty-fifth chapter of Daniel.”

He immediately commenced to ridicule the idea of beasts in Heaven. I saw at once that it was Isa. lxv, and not Daniel, that he referred to. And after he had gotten fairly under way, I called his attention to the fact that he had made a mistake in giving the prophet Daniel credit for speaking of the lion and the ox both feeding on straw, and the leopard and the kid lodging together. It was not Daniel, but another prophet who had thus spoken. He rebuked me for interrupting him. I stated that as he should proceed to show in five minutes that the doctrine I preached had no foundation in scripture, or in common sense, I should see that his reference was all correct. But he affirmed that he was right in quoting Daniel, and went on with his remarks in a style well calculated to disgust the people, and turn them in strong sympathy with me. And when his unsanctified tongue was moving off at full speed, I called to him again, saying, “I am not willing the gentleman shall proceed any further till he reads from Dan. lxv, the scripture from which he is speaking. Please turn and read, sir, and satisfy us all that you are correct, and I will consent for you to go on.”

He took up his Bible and turned from one side of it to the other, colored up, appeared greatly agitated, and said, “The book of Daniel is torn out of my Bible.” “Here, sir, is mine,” said I, and reaching it toward him, said to those seated near me, “Please pass it to him. Mine has the book of Daniel in it.” As my Bible was being passed from seat to seat toward this man, he looked distressed. He could not readily find the book of Daniel, not being familiar with his Bible, and evidently made the false statement for the occasion, that this book was torn from his Bible.

He took my Bible and searched from one lid to the other several times for the book of Daniel, but was so agitated that he could not find it. The people fixed their eyes upon him, some with pity, others with apparent anger, while still another class laughed at him. My pity was moved toward him, and I stated that I could help the gentleman. That it was Isaiah, and not Daniel, that he wished to quote. That there were but twelve chapters in all the book of Daniel, and that he wished to speak upon Isa. lxv, 17-25. I then quoted these nine verses from memory, and said, “This is what you want, is it not?” “Yes,” was his reply, and after a few broken remarks which showed his complete confusion, he sat down and covered his face with his hands. The people were ashamed of him, and seemed astonished that I should know from his remarks what chapter and verses he wanted, and that, without my Bible, I could repeat nearly half a chapter.

If the dream of the ox applied to the effort on the part of this Universalist minister to crush me, then by this time I had all that victory over him represented by my soaring above him on wings. I then exhorted this poor apostate to turn from his sins, and seek a preparation for the coming of Christ. And as I felt the condition of the people, as there was scarcely a praying man or woman present, I exhorted them for half an hour. Nearly all wept. The minister did not raise his head.

I gave an appointment for another evening meeting. Seventy men and women were present. At the close of the lecture I asked those who felt the need of Christ and desired my prayers, that they might become Christians, to rise up. Every one arose, the Universalist minister and all. He then stated as follows:

“I was once a Christian, and was called of God to preach, and if at last I wail in hell, I shall have this to comfort me, that I have been a means in the hands of God of the salvation of sinners.”

The reader may judge that by this time this man’s faith in universal salvation had become very much shaken. I then asked all among those who had risen, who would esteem it a privilege to come forward and bow with me, to come to the front seats. All seventy started, and soon the floor in front of the seats was crowded so as to give no one a chance to kneel down. I then told them to go back to their seats and kneel down there as best they could, and give their hearts to the Lord. As I knelt every soul present bowed with me. There was no one in all that congregation to join me in vocal prayer, for not one of them enjoyed communion with God.

The next day I called at the house of Walter Bolton. He and his family received me kindly, and conversed with me freely relative to the meetings, and upon the subject of religion in general. Before I left, Mr. Bolton said:

“Mr. White, when you rode into this place I knew you by sight as if I had been acquainted with you for years. Your countenance, hat, coat, horse, saddle and bridle, looked familiar to me. Just before you came here to lecture, I dreamed that a young man rode into this place on horseback, to speak upon the second coming of Christ. I noticed particularly his appearance and dress. The people asked him many questions, which he readily answered in a manner that carried strong conviction to their minds that the doctrine was true. Among these questions were those upon the millennium, suggesting the view that there was to be a thousand years of peace and prosperity to the church, during which time all men were to be holy. They were the very points you examined in your discourse last Sunday forenoon, which called out that Universalist minister. When I saw you, as you rode to this place, my dream came to my mind with such force that I felt that I must hear you speak. This is the reason why I have attended all your meetings, and have watched their progress with interest. Especially when you quoted the very texts which I heard you quote in my dream, and when you made the very remarks upon those texts which I distinctly remember of hearing you make, my feelings were beyond description.”

From anything Mr. Bolton said during this interview with him and family, no one would receive the idea that he had been troubled with infidelity. He was under deep conviction, and seemed to choose the religion of the Bible as the theme of conversation. I bowed with this dear family in prayer, and parted with them in tears. The case of Walter Bolton furnishes an illustration of the simple means by which the Lord sometimes softens the hearts and enlightens the minds of those shut up to the hardness and blindness of infidelity, and prepares them for the reception of light and truth.

In a few days I returned to Palmyra, where I received ordination to the work of the ministry from the hands of ministers of the Christian denomination, of which I was a member. But I soon returned back to East Augusta and baptized three persons. A fourth candidate stood ready to go into the water, but not being satisfied that she was sincere, I refused to baptize her in the presence of a large congregation at the water. This young woman was disappointed, and joined her parents in expressions and manifestations of anger. They sent for Elder Hermon Stinson, an educated Freewill Baptist minister of note, who came to the place, baptized the young woman, and organized a small church. And in just four weeks from that time, Elder Stinson was again called to the place to sit in counsel in the case of this woman, when she was dismissed from the church for bad conduct. Fearing that the bitter feelings of this family toward me might involve me in difficulty, I did not visit the place again.

During the summer of 1843, I was not able to awaken especial interest at any new place upon the subject of the second advent. I visited the congregation of believers in Portland and Boston, labored in the hay-field to earn clothing for the winter, and preached in different places where I had the previous winter given lectures.

In the autumn of that year, in company with my father and two sisters, I attended the Maine Eastern Christian Conference, of which I was a member, held in the town of Knox. Before we reached the place, as night drew on, a heavy shower of rain compelled us to call at a hotel. In those days singing was our delight. My father had been a teacher of vocal music, and my sisters were first-class singers. And as time began to hang heavily upon our hands, we found relief in singing some of the most stirring revival melodies of those times.

The landlord, his family, and many who had been driven in by the rain as we had been, seemed to enjoy our singing, and when we had finished one piece, they would call for another. In this way the evening passed off pleasantly. And when my father called for our bill the next morning, the landlord told him there was none for him to settle, as we had paid him the evening before in singing. He also stated that at any time we would put up with him he would entertain us, and take his pay in singing.

The Christian denomination in Maine, as well as in other States, had been deeply imbued with the spirit of the Advent hope and faith. But it was evident before that conference closed, that many, especially among the ministers, were drawing back, and were partaking of the spirit of opposition. The religious meetings and business sessions, however, passed off with a good degree of apparent harmony. No one preached or spoke in favor of the soon advent of Christ in a manner to offend any one, and no one directly opposed. But a lack of freedom of spirit was felt by that portion of the conference who were decided believers. This class constituted a majority, and on Sunday, the last day of the meeting, I was urged to preach. But I was young, and well knew that according to custom the ablest men present were already selected to preach to the crowd on that day, yet I felt assured by the Spirit of God, that I had the word of the Lord to speak to the people on that occasion.

Just as the afternoon service was to commence, I felt so deeply impressed with duty to preach, that several ministers noticed it in my appearance, and came to me, saying: “It is your duty to speak, and we will try and secure the time to you this afternoon.” I then retired from the crowd in and around the house, to pray over the matter, and while bowed before the Lord, decided that I would press my way directly toward the pulpit, and if the ministers gave me room, and the time, I would speak. As I came toward the pulpit, I saw that the sofa was filled with ministers, and that one of experience in the ministry sat in the center, directly behind the large Bible. This man had been selected to give the last discourse. He had opposed me when lecturing in the west part of the State, and I concluded that he would not consent to give me the time.

But as I drew near the pulpit, my brother Samuel, who was then a member of the conference, and a Bro. Chalmers, stepped down from the pulpit, took hold of my arms, and urged me to take a seat upon the sofa, stating to me that if I wished to preach I should have a chance. I replied that if one of them would read Advent hymns, the other pray, and I could get hold of the large Bible, I would speak. My brother read a hymn, and while Bro. Chalmers was praying, I took the Bible from the stand and turned leaves to certain proof texts. When the prayer was finished, some uneasiness was manifested by several ministers as they saw me in possession of the Bible. The second hymn was read and sung, while I held fast the Bible. My intentions to preach were by this time well known to all the ministers, yet no one offered to take the Bible, or speak to me in reference to occupying the time. The way seemed fully open, and I moved forward with freedom, while responses of “Amen,” were heard in different parts of the house from those who cherished the blessed hope of the soon-coming of Jesus.

At the close of this service, the Lord’s supper was to be celebrated, and while the friends of Jesus were gathering around his table, I joined with my sisters in singing,

“You will see your Lord a coming,” &c.

Our voices were in those days clear and powerful, and our spirits triumphant in the Lord. And as we would strike the chorus of each verse--“With a band of music,”--a good Bro. Clark, who ever seemed to have resting upon him a solemn sense of the great day of God near at hand, would rise, strike his hands together over his head, shout “Glory!” and immediately sit down. A more solemn appearing man I never saw. Each repetition of this chorus would bring Bro. Clark to his feet, and call from him the same shout of glory. The Spirit of God came upon the brethren, who by this time were seated ready to receive the emblems of our dying Lord. The influence of the melody, accompanied by Bro. Clark’s solemn appearance and sweet shouts, seemed electrifying. Many were in tears, while responses of “Amen,” and “Praise the Lord,” were heard from almost every one who loved the Advent hope. The emblems were passed, and that yearly meeting closed.

In a few weeks I returned to my old field of labor, and gave lectures at Brunswick and Harpswell, where a good degree of interest was manifested. The field of labor seemed to open before me as winter drew near. I had become acquainted with Bro. John Pearson, Jr., of Portland, who had been laboring a portion of his time giving lectures upon the advent near, and I invited him to join me. We labored together in different parts of Maine much of the time for nearly one year. At the Reed neighborhood, in Richmond, we saw a good work. Elder E. Cromwell, the pastor of the church, embraced the faith in full. I there baptized several.

We labored at Litchfield and saw a good work. Many professed Christians embraced the faith, and sinners were converted. The Congregationalist minister felt that the work was against his interests, and in private circles opposed. On returning to the place, after an absence of some weeks, I met this minister in the road, and as we passed he seemed to be surprised to meet me again, and said,

“Why, Mr. White, are you yet in the land of the living?”

“No, sir,” was the reply, “I am in the land of the dying, but at the soon coming of the Lord I expect to go to the land of the living.” We each went our way.

The year 1843, Jewish time, which was supposed to reach, as stated by Mr. Miller, from March 21, 1843, to March 21, 1844, passed, and many were sadly disappointed in not witnessing the coming of the Lord in that year. But these soon found relief in the clear and forcible application to the existing disappointment of those scriptures which set forth the tarrying time.

It was as early as 1842 that the prophecy of Habakkuk suggested the idea of the prophetic chart to the mind of that holy man of God, Charles Fitch. No one, however, then saw in this prophecy the tarrying time. Afterward they could see both the chart and the tarry. Here is the prophecy:

“Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it. For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak and not lie. Though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry.” Chap. ii, 2, 3.

True believers were also much comforted and strengthened by that portion of the prophecy of Ezekiel which seemed exactly to the point, as follows:

“And the word of the Lord came unto me, saying, Son of man, what is that proverb that ye have in the land of Israel, saying, The days are prolonged and every vision faileth? Tell them, therefore, Thus saith the Lord God, I will make this proverb to cease; and they shall no more use it as a proverb in Israel; but say unto them, The days are at hand, and the effect of every vision. For there shall be no more any vain vision, nor flattering divination within the house of Israel. For I am the Lord, I will speak, and the word that I shall speak shall come to pass. It shall be no more prolonged, for in your days, O rebellious house, will I say the word, and will perform it, saith the Lord God. Again the word of the Lord came to me, saying, Son of man, behold, they of the house of Israel say, The vision that he seeth is for many days to come, and he prophesieth of the times that are far off. Therefore, say unto them, Thus saith the Lord God, There shall none of my words be prolonged any more, but the word which I have spoken shall be done, saith the Lord God.” Chap. xii, 21-28.

There was a general agreement with those who taught the immediate coming of Christ, in applying the parable of the ten virgins of Matt. xxv to the events connected with the second advent. And the passing of the time of expectation, the disappointment and the delay, seemed to be forcibly illustrated by the tarrying of the bridegroom in the parable. The definite time had passed, yet believers were united in the faith that the event was near. It soon became evident that they were losing a degree of their zeal and devotion to the cause, and were falling into that state illustrated by the slumbering of the ten virgins of the parable, following the tarrying of the bridegroom.

The first of May I received an urgent call to visit West Gardiner, and baptize. A messenger was sent twenty miles for me. He stated that there were ten or twelve children there, who were convicted by my lectures, who had held their little meetings by themselves, and sought and found the Lord, and who had decided to have me baptize them. Their parents opposed the idea, and told them that Elder Getchel, the pastor of the church, would baptize them. They held a little counsel and decided that they would not go into the water unless they could have me to immerse them. Their parents yielded and sent for me. But before I reached the place, an effort was made to intimidate these dear children, and, if possible, to frighten them, and thus keep them from doing their duty. “What kind of an experience does Mr. White suppose those babies can tell?” said a Baptist minister of the most rigid stamp of past times.

The large school-house was crowded at the time appointed, and there were three unfriendly ministers present to watch the proceedings. “Please vacate these front seats,” said I, “and give those who are to be baptized a chance to come forward.” Twelve boys and girls, from seven to fifteen years of age, came forward. It was a beautiful sight, which stirred the very depths of my soul, and I felt like taking charge of them as I would of a class in school. I was determined to help the feelings of those dear children as much as possible, and rebuke their persecutors.

After taking my text, “Fear not little flock, it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom,” Luke xii, 32, a text quite applicable to the occasion, I stated that I should not require the children before me to relate their experiences before the congregation. That it would be cruel to decide their fitness to follow the Lord in the ordinance of baptism by the confidence and freedom they might have in speaking before those professed Christians present who felt unfriendly toward them, and that I should, at the close of my discourse, ask them a few questions. The children were much comforted and cheered by the discourse. In fact I was enjoying decidedly a good time with those lambs of the flock. They then arose in their turn and answered some questions, and related particulars as to their conviction of sin, the change they had experienced, and the love of Jesus they felt, until the congregation heard twelve intelligent and sweet experiences. It may be proper for me here to state that questions asked these children at the very point in the relation of their experiences when they were becoming confused, and were about to cut their story short, gave them confidence, and helped them to enter into all parts of their experiences.

I then called upon all present who felt opposed to the baptism of the little flock before me, to rise up. Not one arose. I stated to them that the present was the time to object if they had objections. But if they did not then and there object, to forever be silent. I then said to the children that no one objected, and that the way was fully open before them, and no person from that day had any right to object to their baptism. We went to a beautiful body of water, where I led those dear children down into the liquid grave, and buried them with their divine Lord. Not one of them strangled or seemed the least agitated. And as I led them out of the water and presented them to their parents, the children met them with a heavenly smile of joy, and I praised the Lord with the voice of triumph. This meeting, and that sweet baptism, has lived among the most pleasing memories of the past, and when laboring for the youth in different States, I have probably rehearsed more or less of the particulars of that sweet meeting, and that happy baptism, a hundred times.

In the month of June, 1844, a Second-Advent Conference was held at Poland, Me., which I attended in company with Elder Pearson. I had traveled extensively in the heat and dust of summer, until my plain clothing was much soiled and worn. And not enjoying my usual freedom of spirits, I chose to remain silent and give others the time. I enjoyed the preaching, however, and the social seasons of this excellent conference, and at its close felt my usual spiritual strength and freedom.

There was present at this conference an Elder H., from Eastern Maine, who had much to say in his peculiar, noisy style. He professed to be a man of great faith, and wonderfully filled with the Holy Spirit. If noise, harsh expressions, rough language generally, and frequent empty shouts of “Glory, hallelujah,” constitute the sum total of the fruits of the Spirit, then this Elder H. was an exceedingly good man. But if love, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, meekness, and temperance, are among the fruits of the Spirit, this poor man was sadly deficient. In fact, these precious fruits were not exhibited in him. He enjoyed a shout with those who would join with him, and ever appeared to feel strong and sure of Heaven. Self appeared in this man, and not Christ. He had much to say of humility; but his was evidently on the outside. His style of worship, and pretended humility, are well-described by the apostle as “voluntary humility and will-worship.” At times he was so very humble (?) that he chose not to seat himself at the table with others to take food; but, forgetting the words of the apostle, “Let all things be done decently and in order,” he would take food from the table, and go behind the door and eat it, attracting attention to his wonderful humility by shouts. But if corrected for his faults, however carefully, the demon in him was aroused at once. This man had no words of tenderness and comfort for the weak and fainting. So far from this, he even boasted of running over, as he expressed it, this one and the other. He spoke and acted as if he regarded himself as being on exhibition at that meeting as a wonderful specimen of faith and goodness. His career since that time, in following the spirit that seemed to possess him at that conference, has proved that the man was laboring under the sad mistake of supposing himself led by the Spirit of God, while being controlled by Satan.

The reader may be disappointed at the introduction of this unpleasant matter, choosing to read only of those incidents with which are connected the victories of the work and power of God. But it may be for the safety and sure advancement of young disciples, and those of little experience in the conflicts of the Christian life, to learn of the trials of the way, and of the wiles of the Devil, as to know only of the power and love of God, and the triumphant victories of his truth and people. The various attacks of Satan, in order to mislead and finally destroy even honest men and women, may with propriety, in consequence of their numbers, bear the name of legion. And the duty of all is, as stated by our Lord, “Watch and pray, lest ye enter into temptation.”

But he who is filled with pride in spiritual things, and is unteachable--thinks himself especially led by the Spirit, and understands all about the work of the Lord, who regards himself as an eminent Christian, yet is easily tempted, and becomes jealous of being slighted, and even ugly if he does not receive a large share of attention--is a tool for the Devil, and an exceedingly dangerous man. He is a medium in the hands of Satan through which to affect and mislead the precious flock of Christ. Let all beware lest they, in some way, be brought more or less under the influence of such, and, in consequence, weave into their experience uncomely stripes of vain religion.

Such things ever have existed, and ever will exist during the entire period of Satan’s efforts to wrest precious souls from the hands of Jesus Christ. “For there must be also heresies among you,” says Paul, “that they which are approved may be made manifest among you.” These, in the Lord’s providence, constitute a portion of the fuel to heat the furnace of affliction in which the true Christian loses his dross and is refined, so as to reflect in his life the meekness and purity of the loving Lamb of God. Therefore let not the beloved of the Lord think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try them, as though some strange thing had happened unto them. But rejoice, inasmuch as they are partakers of Christ’s sufferings, that when his glory shall be revealed, they may be glad with exceeding joy. 1 Pet. iv, 12, 13.

The reader will please return to Poland conference. One morning about forty brethren and sisters bowed at the family altar, at the house of Bro. Jordan, while Elder H. led in prayer. A portion of that strange prayer was in substance as follows:

“O Lord, have mercy on Bro. White. He is proud, and will be damned unless he gets rid of his pride. Have mercy upon him, O Lord, and save him from pride. O Lord have mercy, and wean him from the pride of life. Break him down, Lord, and make him humble. Have mercy upon him. Have mercy.”

He went on telling a long story about me, informing the Lord of my pride, and how sure I was of destruction unless I should speedily repent, and closed up with vehement cries of “Have mercy! Have mercy! Mercy! Mercy!” This was his way of treating those who did not seem to receive him with feelings of great reverence for his special humility and extra holiness. His object in this was to cast fear upon those around him, and thus bring them directly under his influence, that they might show him all that respect which his especial endowments demanded.

But he did not succeed in my case. After the company had arisen to their seats, and had for awhile painfully pondered in silence what these things could mean, I drew my chair near Elder H., and in a kind manner said to him:

“Bro. H., I fear you have told the Lord a wrong story. You say I am proud. This I think is not true. But why tell this to the Lord? He knows more about me than you do. He does not need to be instructed in my case. But this was not your object. You wished to represent me before these brethren and sisters as proud, and have chosen to do so through the medium of prayer to God. Now, sir, if I am proud, so much so that you are able to give the Lord information on the subject, you can tell me before these present in what I am proud. Is it in my general appearance, or my manner of speaking, praying, or singing?”

“No, Bro. White, it is not in those things.”

“Well, is it manifested by these worn and soiled clothes? Please look me over. Is it in my patched boots? my rusty coat? this nearly worn-out vest? these soiled pants? or that old hat I wear?”

“No; I do not see pride in any of these things you mention. But, Bro. White, when I saw that starched collar on you, God only knows how I felt.”

And here the man wept as though his heart would break. This was for effect. It was his usual resort when he had points to carry in a difficult case. In an extremity, tears are not unfrequently woman’s closing and most powerful argument. In her, if her cause be just, they are excusable, and even appropriate and beautiful. But to see a coarse, hard-hearted man, possessing in his very nature but little more tenderness than a crocodile, and nearly as destitute of moral and religious training as a hyena, shedding hypocritical tears for effect, is enough to stir the mirthfulness of the gravest saint.

“But let me explain to you, Bro. H., about this starched collar. I may be able to help you. When I came to this conference, sister Rounds offered to do my washing, and as I had no clean change, she kindly lent me her husband’s shirt, which unfortunately has a starched collar. Mine have only a narrow binding round the neck. I wear no collars only in cases of necessity like the present. It is this, sir, that has given rise to all your ado this morning. I usually wear a black alpaca bosom, but am not the owner of a single collar. You have certainly told the Lord a wrong story about me, under circumstances the most inexcusable. And I think your first and most important work is to settle this matter with him.”

Elder H. dropped upon his knees, and said, in substance:

“O Lord, I have prayed for Bro. White, and he is displeased with me for it. Have mercy upon him! Have mercy! Mercy! Mercy!”

And seeing that none joined with him, not even so much as to kneel, he felt that his effort was proving a failure, and in a subdued tone came to me and said:

“Why did you not kneel with me? O Bro. White, I have felt for you, prayed for you, and have wept over you, and I hope you will not be offended.”

“Certainly, I am not offended. There is nothing in all this to offend any one. I pity you. You are suffering from unsanctified feelings arising from an unfortunate application of false ideas. Your prayers are no more to me than the howling of the winds. And when you, under such circumstances, plead your tears, feelings of shame and inexpressible disgust and pity for you come over me. I advise you to carry this matter no further; and I hope you will learn a good lesson from the folly you have manifested this morning.”

By this time I seemed to lose sight of that gloom and despondency under which I had been suffering for several days, and I enjoyed the closing portion of the conference exceedingly well, and from that time felt my usual freedom of spirits. This was my first experience in meeting and rebuking fanaticism, which served to prepare me to deal with it in its ever-varying forms in after time.

That fanaticism did arise about this time, and labor to attach itself to the Advent cause, I would not deny. I, however, by no means admit the truthfulness of the highly-colored reports of the bitter enemies of the cause. Not more than one in ten of the slanderous reports had the least semblance of truth in them. Men filled with prejudice and with bitterness against the proclamation of the immediate second advent of Christ, mingled with fear that it might be true, were totally unfitted to fairly represent the faith, motives and actions of believers. And there are no good reasons why he who gives a faithful sketch of Advent history, should hesitate to admit all the facts relative to fanaticism which have arisen from the bigotry and blind zeal of such men as Elder H., and those more designing and shrewd, who have borne the Advent name, and have professed the Advent faith.

Is it not one of the plainest facts in sacred history, that when God has especially wrought for his people, Satan has ever improved the opportunity to make especial efforts? And, during the entire period of the controversy between Christ and his angels, and Satan and his angels, when the sons of God come to present themselves before the Lord, may they not expect that Satan will come also? Has not this ever been true in the history of the people of God? And does not the sad experience of the church of Jesus Christ, since the time where sacred history leaves it, agree with that of the patriarchs and prophets?

We read of Luther’s perplexities, and of his anguish, in consequence of the conduct of fanatics, and the terrible influence the course of these men had on the great reformation, and count these things among the evidences that God was especially with Martin Luther. And there were the Wesleys, and a host of other good men, who have lifted at the great wheel of reform, and have blessed the world with the inspiring influence of their living faith. These men who kept pace with the spirit of reform, have, in their turn, been annoyed at every step by Satan close at their heels, pushing unguarded souls, over-zealous and illy-balanced ones, into fanaticism. The experiences of these men are in harmony with that of the holy men of old, and attest the fact that when and where God works for his people, just there is the time and place for Satan to practice his impositions upon those he can get under his foul influence.

Did Satan stir up fanaticism in connection with the Advent movement? This is one of the proofs of the genuineness of the work. What! He suffer the world to be warned of their and his approaching doom, and he not be stirred in consequence of it? The church be aroused to action, and to readiness for the day of God, and sinners by thousands leaving his ranks and seeking a preparation to meet the King of kings, and he remain quiet? No. He knows his time is short, hence not only his wrath, but his wiles in all their forms. This is well illustrated by what is said to be a dream. A traveler saw Satan seated upon a post, in front of a house of worship, asleep. He aroused him from his slumbers and addressed him as follows:

“How is it that you are so quietly sleeping? This I conclude is unusual for you, considering your reputation for activity in your kind of work. Is it not?”

“Yes,” was the reply, “but the people in this house of worship are asleep, and the minister is asleep, and I thought this a good time for me to take a nap.”

Let the people be aroused to the living truths of the word of God, and to a life of faith and holiness; let them with gladness receive the news of the return and peaceful reign of the Just One; let them consecrate themselves and all they have to the Lord, and with one united voice swell the note, “Behold he cometh,” and you will have good evidence that the powers of darkness are all astir. Satan will not sleep then. With vigilance will he manifest his wrath, and, calling to his aid all the fallen angels of his realm, his wiles will be imposed upon all connected with the people of God who are not properly instructed and guarded.

But it should be distinctly understood that the proclamation of time in the message symbolized by the first angel of Rev. xiv, 6, 7, and in the cry “Behold the Bridegroom cometh,” given in great power in the autumn of 1844, did not produce fanaticism. In those solemn movements, believers were sweetly united in the one blessed hope, and the one living faith. It was when they were left without definite time, during the summer of 1844, that extravagant views of being led by the Spirit prevailed, and to some extent brought in fanaticism, division and wild-fire, with their blighting results, among the happy expectants of the King of glory. But when the proclamation of definite time came in the autumn of 1844, fanaticism, ultra holiness, unhappy divisions, and their results, melted away before it like an early autumn frost before the rising sun.

RISE AND PROGRESS OF ADVENTISM.