THE NEW WITNESS INTRODUCED.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the western part of
the State of New York was a new country, by which I mean--one
recently settled, and comparatively a wilderness. At the close of
the Revolutionary War, which secured to the former British Colonies
independence, the people of the new-born nation found their country
and themselves impoverished. Manufactures owing to the narrow and
selfish policy of England toward her colonies (that policy had been
to discourage the colonies from manufacturing, least they should
compete with the manufactures of England) could scarcely be said to
have an existence. Commerce, owing to the fact that the new nation
had not yet established a commercial standing in the world, afforded
little opportunity for American activity. Moreover, the American
people themselves, of that generation, because of the conditions which
had surrounded them in the New World, were neither skilled artisans
capable of competing with the British workmen in manufacturing, nor
had they the cunning that comes by training, which qualified them
for immediate success. What they did possess was sturdy physical
frames--constitutions unimpaired either by the excesses practiced among
barbarians, or by the vices which abound in older civilizations. They
possessed strong hands, superb courage and simple tastes, and with
these they entered into that almost boundless empire of wilderness to
the west of them, to make homes for themselves and their children.
Looking from the standpoint of our modern life, which knows so much
of ease and comfort, the lot of these pioneers was a hard one. The
soil which their rude shares upturned to the sun was indeed virgin
and fertile, but before it could be cultivated it had to be cleared
of its heavy growth of timber and underbrush, and with the means
then employed, to clear a farm was well-nigh a life's labor. Each
pioneer with the help of a few neighbors--which help he paid for by
helping them in return--built his own house, his barn, his sheds,
and fenced his "clearing." Each family within itself was practically
self-supporting. The hum of the spinning-wheel, the rattle of the
shuttle and the thumping of the loom was heard in every home, as wool
and flax were converted into fabrics to clothe the family; and every
pioneer cultivated such a variety of products that his farm and his
labor supplied his wants and those of his household. Happily for their
contentment, the conditions in which they lived rendered their wants
but few.
In settling the wilderness the pioneers were not disposed to crowd each
other. They settled far apart. It often happened that a man's nearest
neighbor would be two or three miles away, so that the country for a
long time was but sparsely settled. Towns were few and far between,
and were only slowly built up. No such mushroom-growth of towns was
known as that which characterized the settlement of the great prairie
states in subsequent years. A few families settling on a stream
furnishing water power for a grist-mill, or at some point on lake or
stream frequented by the Indians for the purpose of trading their furs,
formed the nucleus of these towns, and soon school-houses and churches
increased their attractions.
It was a simple, honest life these pioneers led. A life full of toil;
for it was a stubborn fight they had with the wilderness to subdue it.
And yet their very hardships tended towards virtue. A busy life in
honorable pursuits can never be a vicious one; and the constant toil of
these men in wood and field so kept hands and head employed that there
was left no time nor opportunity to pursue evil. Their amusements were
few and simple, consisting in the main of the occasional gatherings of
neighbors for social enjoyments--the love of youth and maiden seeking
its legitimate expression in that companionship which alone satisfies
the hunger of the heart, I doubt not, was the incentive which brought
about these gatherings--at least their frequency; and the old, well
pleased to see their own youth reflected in that of their sons and
daughters, looked on with unconcealed delight.
Not only was this life in the wilderness favorable to morality, it
contributed equally well to the cultivation of the religious sentiment
in man. Man is by nature a religious animal, and where natural
conditions prevail instead of artificial ones, true to his nature,
man inclines toward a religious state of mind. There is something in
the awful stillness of the wood that says to man--"God is in this
solitude!" The murmur of the brook splashing over its pebbly bed, and
the mournful sighing of the winds through the tree tops, whisper to
his spirit the fundamental truth of all religion--"God lives!" The
stars looking down through the trees or mirrored in stream or lake
bear witness to the same great truth; while the orderly course of
the seasons, bringing with such undeviating regularity seed time and
harvest, the period of summer's growth and winter's rest, accompanied
by the fact of the sun shining for the wicked as for the good, and the
rain falling upon the just and the unjust alike, gives ample evidence
of God's interest in the world he has created and of his beneficence
and mercy towards all men.
When conditions were so favorable for the development of natural
religion, it is not surprising that profound interest was manifested
also in revealed religion. Especially when we remember that these
pioneers of the wilderness were but from one to three generations
removed from ancestors who had left the Old World for the express
purpose of worshiping God according to their understanding of that same
revealed religion. That skepticism of the eighteenth century which in
some quarters had such a baneful influence upon religious belief was
scarcely felt in these settlements remote from the old centers of the
New World civilization. These men of the wilderness believed the Bible
and looked upon it with the reverence worthy of men descended from
Protestant fathers who had in their system of theology made it take the
place of pope and church, and established it as their sole authority
and infallible guide in the matters of faith and morals. While many of
them refused to identify themselves with any of the various sects about
them, or subscribe to their creeds, they were profound believers in
the word of God, and often confessed this short creed which they duly
impressed upon their descendants: "I believe in God, in the Bible, and
in a state of future rewards and punishments."
There was no lack of zealous churchmen among the pioneers, sectaries
who taught special forms of faith and contended for the necessity of
particular dogmas and formulas with all that ardor and narrowness of
view that usually characterizes the sectarian mind. Their contentions
for the correctness of their respective creeds were not always free
from bitterness but for all that the Protestant sects recognized each
other as parts of a great universal church, and occasionally would so
far put away the differences of creed which separated them as to unite
for the purpose of holding union protracted meetings for the conversion
of unbelievers.
During the continuance of these meetings the minister avoided
preaching any doctrine except such as could be accepted by all the
sects--evangelical doctrine. Professedly their sole effort was to lead
the unconverted to believe in and accept Christ, let them join what
sect they pleased. Usually matters went on very agreeably until the
converts made by these united efforts began to express their preference
for one or the other of the different religious sects. Then would break
out those fierce sectarian struggles for advantage which have ever been
so disgraceful to Protestant Christendom. The good feeling temporarily
exhibited during the union meetings nearly all disappeared, and by the
fact of its vanishing impressed an observer with the idea that all
along it was more pretended than real. Sectarian zeal was unbounded
in its efforts to secure as many of the new converts as possible to
its own particular denomination. There was a cry of lo here and of lo
there, not unfrequently accompanied with remarks of detraction about
the opposing sects. The priests, each jealous for his own church,
contended fiercely with one another, so that they who ought to have
been the most exemplary in that conduct which makes for peace on
earth and good will towards men, were often the most to be blamed for
stirring up contention.
Such a wave of religious fervor brought about in the manner above set
forth, and attended with results described, passed over the western
part of the State of New York in the winter and spring of 1820. The
movement at that time was of unusual interest, first on account of
its extent, and second on account of the intensity of the religious
excitement produced. It can well be imagined that with these two
conditions existing, the bitterness among the sects taking part in the
movement would be correspondingly great when it came to dividing up the
spoils. By which I mean when the converts made by a unity of effort
began to file off some to one sect and some to another. Such was the
case. Presbyterians opposed Methodists, and Methodists Baptists; and
Baptists opposed both the other sects. All was strife, contention,
confusion, beneath which Christian charity and good will to man--these
weightier matters of the law--were buried so far out of sight that it
might be questioned if they ever existed.
Standing somewhat apart from, but watching with intense interest this
religious excitement, and wondering greatly at the confusion and strife
attendant upon it was a lad fourteen years old. [1] He was born of
parents numbered among the pioneers of the wilderness, and up to that
time had lived with them surrounded by the conditions already described
in the first part of this chapter as so favorable to morality and
the development of religious sentiment. By this religious agitation
the mind of the lad was stirred to serious reflection accompanied
with great uneasiness on account of the sectarian strife so incessant
and so bitter. He saw several members of his father's family connect
themselves with the Presbyterian sect, but he himself was more partial
to the Methodist Church; and at times he felt some desire to be united
with them. The tumult arising from the religious contention, however,
was such as to bewilder him, and he felt himself incompetent to decide
who was right and who was wrong. "What is to be done?" he would often
ask himself. "Who of all these parties are right? Or are they all wrong
together? If any one of them be right, which is it and how shall I know
it?" [2]
Young as he was, his native intelligence taught him that something
was radically wrong with all this contention over religion. It was
clear even to his boyish mind that God could not be the author of
all this confusion. God's church would not be split up into factions
in this fashion; if he taught one society to worship one way, and
administer one set of ordinances, he would not teach another principles
diametrically opposed. [3]
Influenced by these reflections he refrained from joining any of the
sects and in the meantime studied the scriptures as best he could for
himself. While thus engaged he came to that passage in James which
says: "If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to
all men liberally and upbraideth not and it shall be given him." That
passage was like the voice of God to his spirit. "Never," he was wont
to say in later life--"never did any passage of scripture come with
more power to the heart of man than this did at this time to mine. It
seemed to enter with great force into every feeling of my heart." [4]
He reflected upon it again and again, and as he did so the impression
grew stronger that the advice of the ancient apostle offered a solution
to his perplexities. It never occurred to him to think that the passage
meant other than it said, or to question the universal application of
the advice it gives. He knew nothing of the sophistry of the schools of
theology which too often made the word of God of none effect by their
learned exegesis. Through the innocent eyes of a mere boy, he looked
the proposition of James squarely in the front, and, thanks to the
teachings of parents who revered the word of God, he believed what the
man of God said, and he believed further that he expressed that which
the Lord inspired him to say; so that it came to him with the full
force of a revelation. Under such circumstances what was more natural
than for him to reason thus: If any person needs wisdom from God, I
do, for how to act I do not know, and unless I can get more wisdom
than I now have, I shall never know. [5] But one conclusion could be
arrived at through such a course of reflection: he must either remain
in darkness and confusion or do as James directed--ask of God. And
since he gives wisdom to them that lack wisdom, and will give liberally
and not upbraid, he thought he might venture. And so at last he did.
He selected a place in a grove near his father's house, and there one
beautiful morning in the spring of 1820, [6] after looking timidly
about to ascertain that he was alone, the boy knelt in his first
attempt at vocal prayer, to ask God for wisdom.
No sooner had he begun calling upon the Lord than there sprang upon
him a being from the unseen world, who so entirely overcame him, and
bound his utterance, that he could not speak. Thick darkness gathered
about him, and it seemed to the struggling boy that he was doomed to
sudden destruction. He still exerted all his power to call upon the
Lord to deliver him from the power of the enemy who had seized him.
But still his unseen though none the less real enemy continued to
prevail. Despair filled his heart. He was about to abandon himself to
destruction when at the moment of his greatest alarm he saw a pillar
of light exactly over his head, above the brightness of the sun, which
descended gradually until it fell upon him. No sooner did this light
appear than he was free from the enemy which had held him bound. As the
light rested upon him he saw within it two personages whose brightness
and glory defy all description. They stood above him in the air, and
one of them pointing to the other said: "JOSEPH, THIS IS MY BELOVED
SON, HEAR HIM."
The object of the lad in going to that place to engage in secret
prayer was to learn of God which of all the sects was right, that
he might know which to join. No sooner, therefore, did he recover
his self-possession than he asked the personage to whom he was thus
introduced, which of all the sects was right--which he should join. He
was answered that he must join none of them; for they were all wrong
Their creeds were an abomination in God's sight; the professors of
them were all corrupt--"They draw near me with their lips," said the
personage, talking to him, "but their hearts are far from me; they
teach for doctrine the commandments of men; having a form of Godliness
but denying the power thereof." Again he was told that he must join
none of them.
Many other things were said to him on that occasion which the Prophet
has not recorded, except to say that he was promised that the fullness
of the gospel would at some future time be made known to him. [7]
With this the vision closed, and the boy on coming to himself was lying
upon his back looking up into heaven. He arose to his feet and looked
upon the place of his fierce struggle with his unseen though powerful
enemy--the place also of his splendid vision!
What a change had come to the lad in one brief hour! He was no longer
struggling with doubts or troubled with perplexities as to which of
the sects was right. He had gone to that place of prayer plagued with
uncertainty, now no one among the children of men so well assured as
he of the course to pursue. He had proved the correctness of James'
doctrine--men may ask God for wisdom, receive liberally and not
be upbraided. He knew that the religious creeds of the world were
untrue; that they taught for doctrine the commandments of men; that
religionists observed a form of godliness, but in their hearts denied
the power of God; that they drew near to the Lord with their lips,
but their hearts were far from him. He knew that God, the Father,
lived, for he had both seen him and heard his voice; he knew that
Jesus lived and was the Son of God, for he had been introduced to him
by the Father, conversed with him in heavenly vision and had received
instruction and a promise that the fullness of the gospel should yet be
made known to him. Up to that time his life had been uneventful, and
of a character to make him of no particular consequence in the world;
now he stood as God's WITNESS among the children of men. Henceforth he
must bear witness to the great truths he had learned. His testimony
will arouse the wrath of men, and with unrelenting fury they will
pursue him. Slander, outright falsehood and misrepresentation will play
havoc with his reputation. Everywhere his name will be held up as evil.
Derision will laugh at his testimony, Ridicule mock it. On every hand
he will be met with the cry of "False prophet! false prophet!" Chains
and the dungeon's gloom await him; mobs with murderous hate will assail
him again and again; and at the last, while under the protection of the
law, and the honor of a great commonwealth pledged for his safety, he
will be murdered in cold blood for the word of God and the testimony of
Jesus!
How little that fair-haired boy, standing there in the unpruned forest,
with the sunlight stealing through the trees about him, realized
the burden placed upon his shoulders that morning by reason of the
visitation he received in answer to his prayer!
Here is not the place for argument, that is to come later; but let
us consider the wide-sweeping effect of this boy's vision upon the
accepted theology of Christendom.
First, it was a flat contradiction to the assumption that revelation
had ceased, that God had no further communication to make to man.
Second, it reveals the errors into which men had fallen concerning the
personages of the Godhead. It makes it manifest that God is not an
incorporeal being without body, or parts; on the contrary he appeared
to the Prophet in the form of a man, as he did to the ancient prophets.
Thus after centuries of controversy the simple truth of the scriptures
which teach that man was created in the likeness of God--hence God must
be the same in form as man--was re-affirmed.
Third, it corrected the error of the theologians respecting the oneness
of the persons of the Father and the Son. Instead of being one in
person as the theologians taught, they are distinct in their persons,
as much so as any father and son on earth; and the oneness of the
Godhead referred to in the scriptures, must have reference to unity of
purpose and of will; the mind of the one being the mind of the other,
and so as to the will and other attributes.
The announcement of these truths, coupled with that other truth
proclaimed by the Son of God, viz.: that none of the sects and churches
of Christendom were acknowledged as the church or kingdom of God,
furnish the elements for a religious revolution that will affect the
very foundations of modern Christian theology. In a moment all the
rubbish concerning religion which had accumulated through all the
centuries since the gospel and authority to administer its ordinances
had been taken from the earth, was grandly swept aside--the living
rocks of truth were made bare upon which the Church of Christ was to be
founded--a New Dispensation of the gospel was about to be committed to
the earth--God had raised up a witness for himself among the children
of men.
Footnotes
1. Joseph Smith the prophet was born in Sharon, Windsor County, state
of Vermont, 23rd of December, 1805.
2. Pearl of Great Price, p. 86. (1888 edition always quoted).
3. See Joseph's reasoning upon this subject, published in his account
of the rise of the church, written for Mr. John Wentworth, proprietor
of the _Chicago Democrat_ (1842), This article is also found in a
pamphlet published by Geo A. Smith, entitled _Answers to Questions,_ p.
37.
4. Hist. of Joseph Smith, Supplement to Millennial Star, Vol xiv.
5. His reasoning set down here is paraphrased from his own account of
what he thought. See Hist. of Joseph Smith, Millennial Star, Vol. xiv.
6. The exact date of this occurrence is not known.
7. _Answers to Questions,_ p. 37.