FIRST CAMP-MEETING ON THE PENINSULA, 1805.
The introduction of camp-meetings into the Peninsula formed a new era in
Methodism in that section of country. Worshiping in the groves, God’s
first temples, was a novelty, and called out the people by thousands.
The ministers preached with unusual power, for crowds inspired them, and
converts were multiplied as the drops of the morning. I attended all
these meetings and kept a record of them.
Camp-meetings had their origin in Tennessee, in 1799. Two brothers,
named Magee, one a Methodist the other a Presbyterian minister, had the
high honor of originating them. With John Magee, the Methodist, I was
acquainted for several years; I traveled with him many miles, and heard
him in preach. He was the father-in-law of the Rev. Thomas L. Douglas.
Jesse Lee introduced camp-meetings into Virginia and Maryland, and then
to Delaware. But the first camp-meeting in the East was held by the Rev.
William Thatcher, in Carmel, New York, in 1804.
The meeting of which I now speak was the first held on the Peninsula, and
the beginning of a series that were greatly honored of God and a blessing
to thousands. It was held in a beautiful grove three miles south of
Duck Creek Cross Roads, (now Smyrna,) and commenced on the 25th of July,
1805. There were multitudes of tents, and thousands came to the feast of
tabernacles. Worshiping in nature’s magnificent temple, the preachers and
the people got new inspiration.
A notice of the ministers who preached, and their texts, may seem dry
to some, but by others the record will be read with interest, for all
who preached on that ground at that camp-meeting have long since been in
Paradise.
The opening sermon was by Jesse Lee, who had attended many camp-meetings.
He was then in his palmy days, and was a host in himself. His text was
Isaiah xxxiii, 12: “And the people shall be as the burnings of lime,
as thorns shall they be burned in the fire.” This was a singular text.
The sermon was terrific, showing the awful end of the wicked. Jesse Lee
was occasionally a “son of thunder.” His texts were often novel, and
therefore attracted attention.
John Chalmers, the old hero, preached in the afternoon from Numbers x,
1-9. If the reader will turn to it he will see it was a most ingenious
text for a camp-meeting, and the sermon was equally ingenious. A
minister’s skill and wisdom are exhibited as much in the selection of his
texts as in expounding them. Adaptation is the great secret of success.
John Chalmers knew as well as any other man how to adapt his subject to
the occasion. In his text we read of “camps,” of “trumpets” that were
blown, of the “assembly,” “congregation,” of “priests,” of “solemn days”
and “days of gladness,” all reminding us of modern camp-meetings.
Joseph Totten preached in the evening from Hab. iii, 2, “O Lord, revive
thy work.” My journal says: “This was a time of power to many souls;
about twenty-two professed to find converting grace to-day.” Such was the
first day’s work of the first camp-meeting held on the eastern shore of
Maryland.
On Friday Thomas Ware preached at eight o’clock, from 1 John v, 4, on
faith and its victories. The word was conveyed by the Spirit to the
hearts of many. At three o’clock John Chalmers preached from John xiv,
12, on faith and works. James Aikins, at eight in the evening, from
Matt. xi, 28, on the rest for those who labor and are heavy laden. The
result of the second day was glorious: sixty were converted and a number
sanctified. The meeting continued all night; some were crying for mercy,
others praying, singing, shouting—there was indeed a shout of a king in
the camp. We had a glorious time at sunrise.
On Saturday morning Jesse Lee preached at eight, from John xvi, 20, on
weeping and lamentation being turned into joy. That was verily a time
of weeping. Richard Lyon preached at three o’clock, from Isaiah i, 18:
“Come and let us reason together.” William Bishop preached at night.
About one hundred were converted during the day and last night. Wonderful
are thy works, O Lord Almighty!
On Sunday, at eight o’clock, Alvard White preached, from Psalm cvii, 8,
on praising the Lord for his wonderful works. Ephraim Chambers preached
in the afternoon, and Richard Sneath in the evening. This was a high day
in Zion. It was supposed there were more converted to-day than yesterday.
On Monday our camp-meeting closed, after a most affectionate parting.
Jesse Lee says, concerning this meeting: “Thousands of people attended,
and I suppose two hundred were converted among the white people, and many
among the blacks. I think it exceeded anything that I ever saw for the
conversion of souls, and for the quickening influences of the Holy Ghost
upon the hearts of believers. I took an account of sixty-eight Methodist
preachers who were at that meeting. The work went on beautifully and
powerfully. It was said the noise occasioned by the cries of the
distressed and the shouts of the saints was heard at the distance of
three miles. From that meeting the work of the Lord spread greatly on the
eastern shore, both in Maryland and Delaware states; and hundreds were
converted and added to the society in the course of a few months after
that meeting.” I make this long quotation because it confirms all I have
said by one who was a prominent actor.
This camp-meeting was under the charge of William P. Chandler, who was
a mighty leader of the “sacramental host,” and just the man to command
such a wing of the Christian army. Of the sixty-eight preachers who were
present I alone survive. William P. Chandler, who presided, has been dead
forty-three years; Jesse Lee, forty-nine years; and John Chalmers, thirty
years.
I went with Dr. Chandler to the camp-meeting in Accomac County, Va. We
arrived there on Monday, August 26, and worked hard in clearing the
ground and fixing the seats. We were entertained at Major Kerr’s, a man
of wealth, who stood high in the community, and had built him a splendid
mansion. He was one of Dr. Chandler’s spiritual children, and had
recently joined the society. His conversion was quite singular. Brother
Chandler preached in the neighborhood, and was entertained by the major,
who had respect for the Gospel and its ministers, though he was then
emphatically a man of the world. One day while walking with him in his
fine parlor, and amid his splendid furniture, the doctor said, “Well,
major, this mansion is too beautiful to leave behind you, and yet you
will soon have to leave it and go to that narrow house appointed for all
living.” It was a word “fitly spoken,” a “nail fastened in a sure place.”
It led the major to reflection, which resulted in his conviction and
conversion. The major identified himself with Methodism, and became very
useful.
A great multitude attended this camp-meeting. The ministers preached
with “the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven,” and the “arrows were very
sharp in the hearts of the king’s enemies.” On Thursday sixty were
converted, on Friday one hundred and fifty, on Saturday and Sunday over
a hundred each day. It was the opinion of the preachers, and others who
took pains to ascertain, that four hundred whites and over one hundred
and fifty blacks were converted. The work went on day and night without
intermission from Thursday till Monday. Besides Dr. Chandler there were
present Henry White, Thomas Birch, James Ridgeway, and John Chalmers.
There was a skeptic at the meeting who made some disturbance. He was very
fluent, and crowds gathered around him as he argued against the divinity
of Jesus, and ridiculed his mysterious birth. At last John Chalmers
encountered him, and he was just the man. He inquired of the skeptic,
“Do you believe that God created the universe?” He answered, “I do.”
“Do you believe God formed man out of the dust of the earth?” He said,
“Yes.” Another question: “Do you believe that God formed the woman out of
the man?” “Yes.” Then came the crowning question: “Do you think it more
difficult for God to create a man out of a woman than a woman out of a
man?” The question struck at the foundation of his skepticism. He was
confounded; he trembled and wept, and in a little while was on his knees
at the mourners’ bench imploring pardon. And he found that the blood of
the incarnate Jesus could wash all his guilty stains away. He became an
ornament to the Church. Years afterward I saw him with a face that looked
toward heaven, declaring, “I seek a better country.”
There has been some discussion in our periodicals as to the time when
mourners were first invited to the altar for prayers, and with whom the
custom originated. As this practice made a new era in the Church, and has
been so highly honored of God, the question is one of interest.
Dr. Bangs, in his History of Methodism, vol. iii, p. 374, speaks of the
revival in the city of New York in 1806, and says: “It was during this
powerful revival the practice of inviting penitent sinners to the altar
was first introduced. The honor of doing this, if I am rightly informed,
belongs to Brother Aaron Hunt, who resorted to it to prevent the
confusion arising from praying in different parts of the house.” This has
been for years stereotyped, and is interwoven into history. The doctor
expressed himself cautiously, for he said, “If I am rightly informed.”
The truth is, he was not correctly informed. Aaron Hunt was no doubt
the one who first introduced its practice in New York, but it existed
previously in other places. The Rev. Henry Smith of Baltimore Conference
wrote a letter to Dr. Bangs when he was editor of the _Advocate_ asking
that this error in his history might be corrected. In it he stated he had
invited mourners to the altar as early as 1803, and adds, “It was not a
solitary case or a new thing, but often practiced with success.”
I know the practice commenced much earlier than 1806. As early as 1799,
when in company with that eminent revivalist, Rev. W. P. Chandler,
on Cecil Circuit, at Back Creek, after preaching, the doctor invited
mourners to the altar. Nearly a score came forward, and twelve men
experienced the forgiveness of sins that day, and among them Lawrence
Laurenson, who became one of the most popular and useful preachers in the
Philadelphia Conference. That was the first time I ever saw or heard of
mourners being invited to the altar.
During the revivals on the Peninsula in 1801, and the two following
years, as well as at the camp-meeting in 1805, it was the invariable
practice to invite mourners to come forward. The Rev. Richard Sneath, one
of the best of ministers, with whom I fought side by side the battles
of the Lord, has thrown light on this subject. In a letter to Dr. Coke,
dated Milford, October 5, 1802, he says: “On January 25, 1801, at St.
George’s, Philadelphia, after Mr. Cooper had been preaching, I invited
all the mourners to come to the communion-table that we might pray
particularly for them. This I found to be useful, as it removed that
shame which often hinders souls from coming to Christ, and excited them
to the exercise of faith. About thirty professed to be converted, and
twenty-six joined the society.” Mr. Sneath says also: “In 1800 and 1801
I added on Milford Circuit upward of three thousand members.”[10] So
mightily grew the word of God and prevailed. The scenes were pentecostal.
It is difficult to realize them now.