Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
LIFE INCIDENTS.
* * * * *
LIFE INCIDENTS, IN CONNECTION WITH THE GREAT ADVENT MOVEMENT, AS
ILLUSTRATED BY THE THREE ANGELS --OF-- REVELATION XIV.
BY ELDER JAMES WHITE.
“And he said unto me, Unto two thousand and three hundred days, then
shall the sanctuary be cleansed.”--DANIEL.
“And the angel which I saw stand upon the sea and upon the earth,
lifted up his hand to heaven, and aware by Him that liveth forever
and ever, who created Heaven, and the things that therein are, and
the earth, and the things that therein are, and the sea, and the
things which are therein, that there should be time no longer.... And
he said unto me, Thou must prophesy again before many peoples, and
nations, and tongues, and kings.”--JOHN.
VOLUME ONE.
STEAM PRESS
OF THE SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION,
BATTLE CREEK, MICH.
1868.
PREFACE.
The writer of these pages does not entertain the idea that he has done
justice to the subject upon which they treat. The field is a wide one,
and to do the subject full justice, would require much time, and many
volumes the size of this. And it has been while laboring with the
churches in Michigan that these thoughts have been hastily gathered
from personal knowledge and experience, and from the writings of
those who were deeply imbued with the sweet spirit of revealed truth.
More time, undivided attention to the subject, and more pages, would
greatly improve the work. But even such as it is, it is commended to
the prayerful consideration of the reader, in confidence that it is
calculated to revive the Advent hope and faith in the hearts of the
fainting, and to cheer way-worn pilgrims to Mount Zion, and lead them
to take fresh courage in the Lord. And may it not also be hoped that
this historical sketch of the great Advent movement will lead some
to see the subject clearly in the light of the sacred Scripture and
Christian experience, and embrace the truth of God.
The writer has passed rapidly over the incidents in his early life,
and has given only those of later years, which were connected with the
Advent cause. His object has been to give those facts only which would
serve to honor and magnify the name and power of God in the exhibition
of divine truth. The fact, however, that he has been connected with the
Advent cause since 1842, may serve as an apology for introducing some
incidents of personal Second-Advent experience into this work.
It has been with great pleasure that the great Advent movement has
been revived in the preparation of these pages. It has been an
intellectual and spiritual feast. The fundamental principles of the
glorious doctrine of the soon coming of Christ, never appeared more
firmly established. And the facts in Second-Advent history, fulfilling
prophecy, never seemed so important to the people of God, as an anchor
in the perilous storms of these last days, as since examining anew
this whole question. May God make this work as great a blessing to the
reader as it has been made to the writer in its preparation.
J. W.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
Ancestry and Early Life, 9-15
Christian Experience, 15-17
Impressions of Duty, 17-25
William Miller, 25-39
His Views of Prophecy, 40-42
Daniel, Chapter ii, 42-44
Daniel, Chapter vii, 44-47
Daniel, Chapter viii, 47-49
The 2300 Days, 49-60
His Public Labors, 60-63
Conversion of One Hundred Infidels, 63-65
Miller and the Prophecies, 65-72
My Public Labors, 72-120
Rise and Progress of Adventism, 120-127
The Signs of the Times, 127-128
United Effort, 129-132
Camp-Meeting Era, 132-134
The Great Tent, 134-135
The Midnight Cry, 135-139
Mr. Miller’s Visit to Washington, 140-141
Termination of the Prophetic Times, 141
Modes of Opposition, 141-146
Extent of the Work, 146-147
Advent Books, 147
Lecturers and Writers, 148-149
What Adventism has Accomplished, 149-151
Permanency of the Work, 151-153
The Exeter Camp-Meeting, 153-168
Character of the Work, 168-180
The Passing of the Time, 180-191
Argument from the Types, 191-209
The Seventh Angel, 209-216
The First Message, 216-230
The Second Message, 230-240
The Third Message, 240-264
Rise and Progress of the Third Message, 264-268
Introduction of the Sabbath, 268-270
First Conference of Believers, 270-271
Mrs. White’s Experience, 271-274
Second General Conference, 274-275
The Opposition, 276-290
A Paper Started, 290-292
The Review and Herald, 292-294
Purifying Process, 294-296
Tent Meetings, 296-297
Removal to Michigan, 297-298
Power Press, 298
Publishing Association, 298-299
Organization, 299-300
Systematic Benevolence, 300-302
Glance at the Past, 302-309
Tongue of Slander, 309-321
Present Position and Work, 322-342
The Law and the Gospel, 343-359
God’s Memorial, 360-373
* * * * *
Life Incidents.
ANCESTRY AND EARLY LIFE.
I was born in Palmyra, Somerset County, Maine, August 4th, 1821.
Bloomfield, Me., which now forms a part of Skowhegan, was the
birthplace of my father, Deacon John White. At the age of twenty-one he
commenced life in the new township of Palmyra. At that time there were
but twenty acres of trees felled on his land. The old farm is situated
on the west side of a body of water which is called, as seen upon the
large map of Somerset County, White’s Pond. On this farm he lived and
labored fifty-one years. He has since spent one year and a half in
Ohio, and seven years at Battle Creek, Michigan, where he now resides.
My father descended from one of the Pilgrims who came to America in
the ship May Flower, and landed upon Plymouth Rock, December, 1620.
On board that ship was the father of Perigrine White, who wore a pair
of silver knee-buckles, such as may be seen in the picture of the
venerable signers of the Declaration of Independence.
The knee-buckles worn by this man were afterward given to his son,
Perigrine White, who was born on the passage to this country, with the
request that they should be handed down in this line of the White
family to the eldest son of each successive generation, whose name
should be called John. My father had those buckles thirty years. They
were as familiar to me in my boyhood days as the buttons upon my coat.
He gave them to my brother John, who has passed them down to his son
John, a young man of eighteen years.
My father possessed from his youth great physical strength, and
activity of body and mind. With his own hands he cleared the heavy
timber from his land. This revealed stones in the soil, which his own
hands removed and placed into stone fence, to prepare the way for the
plow. He toiled on for more than half a century, till the rock-bound
soil was literally worn out, and much of the old farm lost its power to
produce crops. At the age of seventy-four he left it and sought rest in
the more congenial climate of the West.
His religious experience, of more than sixty years, has been marked
with firmness and zeal, and yet with freedom from that bigotry which
prevents investigation and advancement, and shuts out love for all who
seek to worship God in spirit and in truth.
At the age of twenty-one he was sprinkled, and joined the
Congregational church, but never felt satisfied that in being sprinkled
he had received Christian baptism. Several years later, a Baptist
minister came into that new part of the State and taught immersion.
My father was immersed and became a Baptist deacon. Still later he
embraced the views held by the Christian denomination, which were more
liberal and scriptural than those of the Calvinistic Baptists of those
days, and communed with that people. The Baptists called a special
meeting. The minister and many of the church members were present. The
minister invited several to open the meeting with prayer, but each in
his turn wished to be excused. He waited. Finally, my father opened
the meeting. They then excluded him for communing with the Christians.
The minister made an effort to have some one close the meeting. No one
moved. My father closed their meeting with prayer, and left them with
feelings of love and tenderness. He soon joined the Christian church,
and served them as deacon nearly forty years. During this entire
period he was present at every conference meeting held by the church,
excepting one, which, according to their custom, was held on Saturday
afternoon of every fourth week.
As early as 1842 my father read with deep interest the lectures of
William Miller upon the second coming of Christ. He has ever since that
time cherished faith in the leading points of the advent doctrine. In
1860, with my good mother, he embraced the Sabbath, and dwells upon the
evidences of the Bible Sabbath with clearness and much pleasure.
My mother is a granddaughter of Dr. Samuel Shepard, one of the first
and most eminent Baptist ministers of New England. She possessed great
firmness of constitution, a good mind, and a most amiable disposition.
Her entire religious experience, for more than sixty years, has been
marked with a meek and quiet spirit, devotion to the cause of Christ,
and a consistent walk and godly conversation.
My venerable parents have reached the good old age of more than
fourscore years. They keep house alone, and enjoy as much of life as
their advanced age will allow. Yet each year visibly brings then nearer
the grave. God grant that as they are being gently lowered to its
embrace, they may sweetly ripen for immortality, to be given at the
soon coming of Christ.
In my father’s family I stood in the center of nine children, four
above me and four below me. But this family chain is now much worn, and
nearly half its links are broken. The four above me in years, all live.
All below me sleep. Time, toil and care have made their unmistakable
impress on the remaining five.
My remaining brothers are both ministers, one of the M. E. Church, of
Ohio, the other of the regular Baptist, of Vermont. Two sisters live in
Maine. One brother is supposed to have lost his life by the Indians, in
returning from California. Another sleeps beside a sister in Mount Hope
Cemetery, Rochester, N. Y., while another brother, who died at the age
of three years, rests in the old burying-ground in Palmyra, Maine.
My parents say I was an extremely feeble child. And, what added greatly
to my difficulties, and cut off their hopes of my life, when less than
three years old, I had what the doctors called worm fever, resulting
in fits, which turned my eyes and nearly destroyed my sight. I am
reported to have been extremely cross-eyed--not naturally, but from
affection of the nerves--a feeble, nervous, partially-blind boy. These
are sufficient reasons why I could not enjoy the common advantages
of school. And not until I was sixteen years old, when my health and
strength greatly improved, and my eyes became quite natural, could I
read a single verse in the Testament without resting my eyes. I felt
keenly the fact that I was behind my school-mates in education. And
with the poor advantages of those times I could do but little toward
making up the almost total loss of ten years. I grew rapidly, and at
eighteen was ahead of my years in size and strength. This added to my
embarrassment as I entered the Academy at St. Albans, Me., at the age
of nineteen. I could not then work a simple problem in single rule
of three, and I could not tell a verb from an adverb or an adjective,
and was deficient in the other common branches. My friends advised
me to turn my attention to farming, and not think of seeking for an
education. But I could not take their advice.
At the close of the term of twelve weeks, I received from the
preceptor, C. F. Allen, a certificate of my qualifications to teach
the common branches, and the winter following taught school. This
required close study eighteen hours of each twenty-four. A victory
was gained. Much of my time previous to this I had viewed myself as
nearly worthless in the world, and regretted my existence. But now I
was beginning to hope that I had powers to become a man. No privation
nor hardship formed an obstacle in my way. My father gave me my time at
nineteen, and a suit of clothes. All I asked of my parents in addition
to this was three dollars to pay my tuition, and six days’ rations of
bread to take with me each Monday morning for three months, as I should
walk five miles to the school.
At the close of my first term of school-teaching I again attended
school at St. Albans five weeks, then shouldered my pack and walked
to the Penobscot river, forty miles, to offer myself as a raw hand in
a saw mill. In the mill I cut my ankle, which resulted in permanent
weakness and occasional painful lameness in my left foot. For
twenty-six years I have been unable to bear my weight upon my left heel.
At the end of four months I returned home. I had lost much time in
consequence of the severe wound in my ankle joint, and after paying
my board during the time lost, I had but thirty dollars and a scanty
amount of worn clothing. In order to be qualified to teach a school
where I could get first-class wages, it was necessary for me to attend
school. I therefore immediately packed up my books and humble apparel
for the school at Reedfield, Me., then favorably known as being under
the control and support of the Episcopal Methodists. During that
term my object was to thoroughly qualify myself to teach the common
branches. Besides these, I took up Natural Philosophy, Algebra, and
Latin. At the close of that term I had conquered all the Arithmetics
within my reach, was regarded as a good grammarian, was prepared to
teach penmanship, and was told by my preceptor that I could fit for
college in one year.
My thirst for education increased, and my plans were laid to take a
college course and pay my way, if labor, economy, and study would
accomplish it. I had but little else to thank but God and my own
energies for what advancement I had made. At Reedfield I wore old
clothes, while my class-mates wore new, and lived three months on
corn-meal pudding prepared by myself, and a few raw apples, while they
enjoyed the conveniences and luxuries of the boarding house.
With the close of this term, also closed my school studies. I have
attended high school, in all, twenty-nine weeks, and the entire cost of
tuition, books, and board, has not exceeded fifty dollars. My apology
for being so definite in this part of my narrative, is a desire to help
those young men who wish to obtain an education while suffering under
the unfriendly influences of poverty and pride. A poor boy may obtain
an education by calling to his aid industry, economy, and application
to his books. Such an one will prize his education, and be likely to
make a good use of it. While the young man who looks to his father’s
purse, puts on fine clothes, spends much of his time in fashionable
calls, and acts the part of the spendthrift, will not get a thorough
education, and will probably make a poor use of what he does obtain.
The following winter, covering a part of 1840 and 1841, I taught a
large school, and also gave lessons in penmanship in two districts. And
with my winter’s earnings in my pocket, I returned home with a firm
purpose to pursue my studies.
CHRISTIAN EXPERIENCE.
At the age of fifteen I was baptized, and united with the Christian
church. But at the age of twenty I had buried myself in the spirit of
study and school teaching, and had lain down the cross. I had never
descended to the common sin of profanity, and had not used tobacco, tea
and coffee, nor had I ever raised a glass of spirituous liquor to my
lips. Yet I loved this world more than I loved Christ and the next, and
was worshiping education instead of the God of Heaven. In this state
of mind I returned home from my second and last school, when my mother
said to me: “James, Bro. Oakes, of Boston, has been lecturing at our
meeting house on the second coming of Christ about the year 1843, and
many believe the doctrine, and there has followed these lectures a good
reformation, in which most of your mates have experienced religion.”
I had regarded what was commonly called Millerism as wild fanaticism,
and this impression was confirmed by hearing one James Hall, of Maine,
speak upon the subject at the house of worship at Palmyra. But now that
my mother, in whose judgment and piety I had reason to confide, spoke
to me upon the subject in words of earnestness, candor and solemnity,
I was shocked and distressed. In spite of me, conviction would fasten
upon my mind that these things might be so. But, then, how could I have
it so? I was unprepared, and my plans for this life were made. The
conversation continued:
“But, mother, this preacher Oakes, of whom you speak, professes to know
more than the Lord and his angels, in teaching the time of the second
advent. Christ himself has said, ‘But of that day and that hour knoweth
no man, no, not the angels which are in Heaven; neither the Son, but
the Father.’ This man Oakes is certainly wise above that which is
written.”
“‘As the days of Noah were, so shall also the coming of the Son of Man
be.’ God gave the time to Noah. The Bible says, ‘My Spirit shall not
always strive with man, for that he also is flesh; yet his days shall
be an hundred and twenty years.’ Gen. vi, 3. Noah had this time given
him in which to build the ark and warn the world. And his message,
based upon the word of the Lord that a flood of water would destroy
man and beast from off the face of the earth at the close of the one
hundred and twenty years, condemned the world.
“Jesus also says in this connection, that there shall be signs in the
sun, moon, and stars, and adds, ‘When ye shall see all these things,
_know_ that it is near, even at the doors.’
“But Paul has said, ‘For yourselves know perfectly that the day of the
Lord so cometh as a thief in the night.’ 1 Thess. v, 2. This language
is very plain, and shows that as the thief in the stillness of night
quietly seeks his plunder, without giving notice, so Christ will come
when least expected, hence this idea of warning the world of his soon
coming is a mistake.”
“But, James, of whom is the apostle in this verse speaking? Not of
Christians, but of the ungodly. They will not receive the warning. They
will not be looking for Christ. They will be buried up in the spirit
of this world. They will be saying, Peace and safety, and they will be
suddenly and unexpectedly destroyed. Not so with those who love Jesus
and his appearing. They will receive the warning. They will be looking
for, waiting for, and loving the appearance of the dear Saviour, and
that day will not come upon them as a thief. Notice with care the two
classes mentioned in the two following verses. One is the ungodly. The
other is the brethren. The day of the Lord will come on one class as a
thief; but not so with the other. ‘For when they shall say, Peace and
safety, then sudden destruction cometh upon them, as travail upon a
woman with child, and they shall not escape. But ye, brethren, are not
in darkness, that that day should overtake you as a thief.’”
My good mother was ready to meet, calmly and pleasantly, all my
objections, and I was now disposed to view the subject as worthy of my
attention. And when in the house of God I heard my schoolmates speak
of the love of Christ, and the glory of his appearing, I was deeply
impressed that the hand of God was in the Advent doctrine.
IMPRESSIONS OF DUTY.
As I returned to the Lord, it was with strong convictions that I should
renounce my worldly plans and give myself to the work of warning the
people to prepare for the day of God. I had loved books generally, but,
in my backslidden state, had neither time nor taste for the study of
the sacred Scriptures, hence was ignorant of the prophecies. I had,
however, some knowledge of the Bible history of man, and had the idea
that the race in six thousand years had depreciated physically, and,
consequently, mentally. The subject came before my mind in this form:
Man once lived nearly one thousand years. In length of days he has
dwindled to seventy. In a few centuries, should time continue, with the
same results upon the lifetime of man, the race would cease to exist.
I had renounced the doctrine of the conversion of the world, and the
temporal millennium, in which the soil and man were to be gradually
restored to their Eden state, as taught me by my father. I therefore
saw the necessity, in the very nature of things, for some great change,
and the second coming of Christ seemed to be the event which would most
probably bring about the change in man, and in the earth, to remove the
curse and its results, and restore all to its Eden perfection and glory.
My mind turned to the young people of the school I had just left. In
that school of fifty scholars, twenty were near my own age, several
were older. My school was a happy one. I loved my scholars, and this
love was mutual. As we parted, at the close of the last day of school,
I said to them, “I am engaged to teach this school next winter, and
should I fulfill this engagement, I will not ask one of you to obey my
orders better than you have this term.” As I found comfort in prayer, I
began to pray for my scholars, and would sometimes wake myself in the
night praying vocally for them. A strong impression came upon me, as
if a voice said, Visit your scholars from house to house and pray with
them. I could not conceive of a heavier cross than this. I prayed to be
excused, that I might pursue my studies; but no relief came. I prayed
for clearer evidence, and the same impression seemed to say, Visit
your scholars.
In this state of mind I went into my father’s field, hoping that I
could work off the feelings under which I suffered. But they followed
me, and increased. I went to the grove to pray for relief. None came.
But the impression, Visit your scholars, was still more distinct. My
spirit rose in rebellion against God, and I recklessly said, I will not
go. These words were accompanied with a firm stamp of the foot upon
the ground, and in five minutes I was at the house, packing my books
and clothes for Newport Acadamy. That afternoon I rode to the place
with Eld. Bridges, who talked to me all the way upon the subject of
preaching, greatly to my discomfort.
The next morning I secured a boarding place, and took my position in
several classes in the school, and commenced study with a _will_ to
drive off my convictions. But in this I did not succeed. I became
distressed and agitated. After spending several hours over my books,
I tried to call to mind what I had been studying. This I could not
do. My mental confusion was complete. The Spirit of God had followed
me into the school-room in mercy, notwithstanding my rebellion, and I
could find no rest there. Firmly I resolved that I would do my duty,
and immediately took my cap and went directly from the door of that
school-room, on foot, to the town of Troy, the place of my last school.
I had gone but a few rods on my way, when sweet peace from God flowed
into my mind, and Heaven seemed to shine around me. I raised my hands
and praised God with the voice of triumph.
With a light heart and cheerful step I walked on till sundown, when I
came to a humble cottage which attracted my especial attention. I was
strongly impressed to call, but had no reason for so doing, as it was
but a few miles to the school district, where I should find a hearty
welcome. I decided to go past this house, as I did not wish to find
myself in the awkward position of calling upon strangers without some
good reason. But the impression to call increased, and the excuse to
ask for a drink of water occurred to me, and I stepped to the door and
called for water. A man in the noon of life waited upon me, then kindly
said, “Walk in.” I saw that he had been weeping. In one hand he held
the Bible. When I had taken the chair he offered me, this sad stranger
addressed me in a most mournful manner, as follows: “I am in trouble.
I am in deep affliction. To-day I have buried my dear son, and I have
not the grace of God to sustain me. I am not a Christian, and my burden
seems greater than I can bear. Will you please stop all night with me?”
He wept bitterly. Why he should so directly open his afflicted mind to
a young stranger, has ever been to me a mystery. I could not refuse his
invitation, and concluded to stop for the night. I told him my brief
experience, and pointed him to Christ, who says, “Come unto me all ye
that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke
upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye
shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is
light.” We bowed in prayer, and my new friend seemed relieved. Then we
sought rest in sleep. In the morning I assisted him in erecting the
family altar, and went on my way. I have neither seen nor heard from
him since.
But I had walked only two miles on that delightful spring morning, when
all nature, animate and inanimate, seemed to join my glad heart in
the praise of God, before the same impression came upon me, as I was
passing a neat log cottage. Something said to me, Go into the house. I
stepped to the door, and called for a drink of water. And who should
bring it to me but a young lady who had attended my school the past
winter. As she recognized me, she exclaimed, “Why, schoolmaster, walk
in.” This family had just moved from the district, three miles, to a
new settlement surrounded by forests. The father was absent. The mother
and children greeted me with more than usual cordiality, each calling
me, Master. There was the place for my work to commence. I told my
errand, and asked the privilege to pray.
“Oh, yes!” said the already weeping woman. “But let me send out the
children and call in my neighbors.” Some half-dozen little boys and
girls received dispatches from their mother, and cheerfully ran to as
many log cottages with the word, “Our schoolmaster is at our house,
and wishes to pray, and mother wants you to come as soon as you can.”
In less than half an hour I had before me a congregation of about
twenty-five. In conversing with them, I learned that not one of that
company professed Christianity. Lectures on the second advent had been
given near them, and a general conviction that the doctrine might be
true rested upon the people. And as I related my experience of the
few weeks in the past, stating my convictions relative to the soon
coming of Christ, all were interested. I then bowed to pray, and was
astonished to find that these twenty-five sinners all bowed with me.
I could but weep. They all wept with me. And after pointing them to
Christ, as best I could with my limited experience and knowledge of the
Scriptures, I shook their hands, said farewell, and joyfully pursued
my journey.
As I entered the district I had so recently left, all seemed changed,
yet no changes worthy of note had taken place but in me. The
school-house where I had spent happy hours in teaching willing minds,
was closed, and my scholars were pursuing their daily tasks in the
field and kitchen. I had left them, a proud, prayerless backslider, but
now had come to pray with them. It seemed to me that the Lord could
not have selected a duty more humbling to my pride. The district was
made up of Universalists, formal professors, respectable sinners, and
infidels. My employer, who had also engaged me to teach their school
the next winter, was an infidel. I lost no time in making known the
object of my visit, and in visiting and praying from house to house. No
one opposed me. Some were deeply affected and bowed with me. My infidel
friend said to me as I asked permission to pray in his house,
“I am very sorry, Mr. White, to find you in this state of mind. You are
a good teacher, and a gentleman. I shall not forbid you.”
This reception was decidedly cold when compared with what I had
met from others. This infidel was evidently much disgusted and
disappointed, but tried to conceal his feelings out of respect to
mine. I tried to pray, and passed to the next house. In a few days
my work in this direction was finished for that time, and I returned
home with the sweet assurance that I had done my duty. A few weeks
afterward, however, I visited the place again. A general reformation
was in progress, under the labors of a Christian minister. On Sunday,
the meeting was held in a barn. The interest was general, and the
congregation large. After the minister closed his remarks, I improved
a few moments. I felt deeply, and my testimony reached the people,
especially my scholars and their parents. The following summer,
lectures were given in the town-house, and the next winter most of the
people of that town embraced religion.
Much of the summer I was unsettled as to duty. I had visited my
scholars, and sometimes hoped to be excused from anything further of
the kind, and feel free to pursue my studies. But the definite idea
of proclaiming the soon coming of Christ, and warning the people to
prepare for the day of the Lord, was impressed upon my mind. I did
not dare attend school. The Spirit of the Lord had driven me from the
school-room once, and in following a sense of duty I had been greatly
blessed. How could I resist present convictions, and again try to shut
myself away from the Lord, over my books? But how could I renounce all
my fondly-cherished hopes of the future? My brother in Ohio said to
me by letter: “Come out into the sunny West, James, and I will help
you.” “Well,” said I, “when I become a scholar.” How could I give up my
school books, and with my small stock of education think of becoming a
preacher?
A school-mate, Elbridge Smith, who had also been a room-mate at St.
Albans and at Reedfield, was a special friend of mine. He was a fine
young man, of good habits, yet not a Christian. I loved him for what
he was, and we mutually in confidence freely stated to each other all
our plans, hopes and difficulties. To this young man I first opened my
mind freely upon the subject of the second advent, and my convictions
of duty to preach the doctrine. He treated the matter with candor, and
seemed troubled as he learned from my own lips that I was inclined to
believe that Christ would come about the year 1843. He had given the
subject no study, but evidently feared it might be so. He replied as
follows:
“You know I am not a Christian, and therefore am poorly prepared to
give you advice in relation to religious duty. I think of these things
more than many suppose, though I publicly take no personal interest in
them. I, however, think it well for me, and safe for you, to say at
this time, Follow the convictions of your own mind.”
I highly esteem this friend of my youth for his candor and good
counsel. Who could have done better? We have met but a few times since,
as I soon left that part of the State to proclaim the coming of the
Lord, and he for Bowdoin College. He graduated in two years from that
time, studied law, and now Elbridge Smith is a judge somewhere in the
West.
The struggle with duty was a severe one. But I finally gave out an
appointment, and had some freedom. I soon sent an appointment to speak
at the Troy town-house. The congregation was large. Had rather a lean
time, and felt embarrassed. And what seemed to well-nigh finish me, a
good, honest, simple-hearted woman came up to me at the close of the
meeting and said:
“Elder White, please come to our house and take dinner.”
The word Elder cut me to the heart. I was confused and almost
paralyzed. I will not attempt to narrate anything further that occurred
on that day. The remaining portion of the day has ever seemed like a
blank. I can only remember my confusion and anguish of spirit as I
heard the unexpected word, Elder. I was unreconciled at the prospect
before me, yet dared not refuse what seemed to be duty, and turn to my
books. I was urged to speak in the presence of two young preachers,
and attempted to preach. In twenty minutes became confused and
embarrassed, and sat down. I lacked resignation and humility, therefore
was not sustained. I finally gave up all for Christ and his gospel, and
found peace and freedom.
Soon my mind was especially called to the second advent by hearing
Elders J. V. Himes and A. Hale speak several times upon the subject, in
the city of Bangor, Me. I then saw that it was a subject that required
study, and felt the importance of commencing in earnest to prepare
myself to teach others. I purchased Advent publications, read them
closely, studied my Bible, and spoke a few times during the summer on
the second coming of Christ with freedom, and felt encouraged.
WILLIAM MILLER.
In September, Elders Himes, Miller, and others, held a meeting in
the mammoth tent in Eastern Maine. In company with one Moses Polly,
a Christian minister of my acquaintance, I attended that meeting. I
there for the first time saw that great and good man, William Miller.
His form and features showed great physical and mental strength. The
benevolent, affable, and kind spirit manifested by him in conversation
with numerous strangers who called on him to ask questions, proved him
a humble, Christian gentleman. Infidels, Universalists, and some others
came to him with opposing questions. He was quick to perceive their
designs, and with becoming firmness and dignity promptly met their
objections and sent them away in silence. So long had he, even then,
been in the field, meeting opposition from every quarter, that he was
prepared for any emergency.
In his public labors his arguments were clear, and his appeals and
exhortations most powerful. The tent in which he spoke was a circle
whose diameter was one hundred and twenty feet. On one occasion, when
this tent was full, and thousands stood around, he was unfortunate in
the use of language, which the baser sort in the crowd turned against
him by a general burst of laughter. He left his subject with ease, and
in a moment his spirit rose above the mob-like spirit that prevailed,
and in language the most scorching he spoke of the corruption of the
hearts of those who chose to understand him to be as vile as they
were. In a moment all was quiet. And the speaker continued to describe
the terrible end of the ungodly in a solemn and impressive manner. He
then affectionately exhorted them to repent of their sins, come to
Christ, and be ready for his appearing. Many in that vast crowd wept.
He then resumed his subject, and spoke with clearness and spirit, as
though nothing had happened. In fact, it seemed that nothing could have
occurred to fully give him the ears of the thousands before him, and to
make his subject so impressive as this circumstance.
God raised up Paul to do a great work in his time. In order that the
Gentiles might be clearly taught the great plan of redemption through
Jesus, and that the infidelity of the Jews might be met, a great man
was selected.
Martin Luther was the man for his time. He was daring and sometimes
rash, yet was a great and good man. The little horn had prevailed,
and millions of the saints of the Most High had been put to death. To
fearlessly expose the vileness of the papal monks, and to meet their
learning and their rage, and also to win the hearts of the common
people with all the tenderness and affection of the gospel, called for
just such a man as Martin Luther. He could battle with the lion, or
feed and tenderly nurse the lambs of Christ’s fold.
So William Miller, in the hands of God, was the man for his time. True,
he was a farmer, and had been in the service of his country, and had
not the benefits of an early classical education. And it was not till
he had passed the noon of life that God called him to search his word
and open the prophecies to the people. He was, however, a historian
from his love of history, and had a good practical knowledge of men
and things. He had been an infidel. But on receiving the Bible as a
revelation from God, he did not also receive the popular, contradictory
ideas that many of its prophecies were clad in impenetrable mystery.
Said William Miller: “The Bible, if it is what it purports to be, will
explain itself.”
He sought for the harmony of Scripture and found it. And in the
benevolence of his great and good heart and head, he spent the balance
of his life in teaching it to the people in his written and oral
lectures, and in warning and exhorting them to prepare for the second
coming of Christ.
Much of the fruits of his labors are now seen. Much more will be seen
hereafter. Heaven will be hung with the fruits of the labors of this
truly great and good man. He sleeps. But if it can be said of any who
have toiled and worn and suffered amid vile persecutions, “Blessed are
the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth, that they may rest from
their labors, and their works do follow them,” it can be said of Wm.
Miller. He nobly and faithfully did his duty, and the popular church,
united with the world, paid him in persecutions and reproaches. The
very name of Wm. Miller was despised everywhere, and Millerism was the
jeer of the people from the pulpit to the brothel.
But, dear reader, if your deed of real estate be registered at the
office of the county clerk, rough hands may tear the paper you hold
in your hand which you call a deed, and your title is no less secure.
And however roughly and wickedly men may have handled the name of
Wm. Miller here, when the final triumphant deliverance of all who
are written in the Book of Life comes, his will be found among the
worthies, safe from the wrath of men and the rage of demons, securing
to him the reward of immortality according to his works.
As I have introduced to the reader the man whom God raised up to lead
off in the great advent movement, it may be expected that something of
his life, experience and labors should here be given. I have room for
only a very few sketches from his memoir. He was born in Pittsfield,
Mass., February, 1782. His biographer says:
“In his early childhood, marks of more than ordinary intellectual
strength and activity were manifested. A few years made these marks
more and more noticeable to all who fell into his society. But where
were the powers of the inner man to find the nutriment to satisfy their
cravings, and the field for their exercise?
“Besides the natural elements of education, the objects, the scenes,
and the changes of the natural world, which have ever furnished to
all truly great minds their noblest aliment, the inspiring historical
recollections associated with well-known localities of the neighboring
country, and the society of domestic life, there was nothing within
William’s reach but the Bible, the psalter and prayer-book, till he
had resided at Low Hampton several years.
“His mother had taught him to read, so that he soon mastered the few
books belonging to the family; and this prepared him to enter the
senior class when the district school opened. But if the terms were
short, the winter nights were long. Pine knots could be made to supply
the want of candles, lamps, or gas. And the spacious fireplace in the
log house was ample enough as a substitute for the school-house and
lecture-room.
“He possessed a strong physical constitution, an active and naturally
well-developed intellect, and an irreproachable moral character. He had
appropriated to his use and amusement the small stock of literature
afforded by the family while a child. He had enjoyed the limited
advantages of the district school but a few years before it was
generally admitted that his attainments exceeded those of the teachers
usually employed. He had drank in the inspiration of the natural world
around him, and of the most exciting events of his country’s history.
His imagination had been quickened, and his heart warmed, by the
adventures and gallantries of fiction, and his intellect enriched by
history. And some of his earliest efforts with the pen, as well as the
testimony of his associates, show that his mind and heart were ennobled
by the lessons, if not by the spirit and power of religion. What,
now, would have been the effect of what is called a regular course of
education? Would it have perverted him, as it has thousands? or would
it have made him instrumental of greater good in the cause of God?
“Whatever might have been the result of any established course of
education in the case of Wm. Miller, such a course was beyond his
reach: he was deprived of the benefit, he has escaped the perversion.
Let us be satisfied.”
William Miller was married in 1802, and settled in Poultney, Vt. His
biographer continues:
“But the men with whom he associated from the time of his removal to
Poultney, and to whom he was considerably indebted for his worldly
favors, were deeply affected with skeptical principles and deistical
theories. They were not immoral men; but, as a class, were good
citizens, and generally of serious deportment, humane, and benevolent.
However, they rejected the Bible as the standard of religious truth,
and endeavored to make its rejection plausible by such aid as could
be obtained from the writings of Voltaire, Hume, Volney, Paine, Ethan
Allen, and others. Mr. Miller studied these works closely, and at
length avowed himself a deist. As he has stated the period of his
deistical life to have been twelve years, that period must have begun
in 1804; for he embraced or returned to the Christian faith in 1816. It
may fairly be doubted, however, notwithstanding his known thoroughness
and consistency, whether Mr. Miller ever was fully settled in that
form of deism which reduces man to a level with the brutes, as to the
supposed duration of their existence. And the question is worthy of a
little inquiry, to what extant was he a deist?”
He received a captain’s commission, and entered the army in 1810. He
returned from the army, and moved his family to Low Hampton, N. Y., to
begin there the occupation of farming, in 1812.
“As a farmer, he had more leisure for reading; and he was at an age
when the future of man’s existence _will_ demand a portion of his
thoughts. He found that his former views gave him no assurance of
happiness beyond the present life. Beyond the grave all was dark and
gloomy. To use his own words: ‘Annihilation was a cold and chilling
thought, and accountability was sure destruction to all. The heavens
were as brass over my head, and the earth as iron under my feet.
_Eternity!--what was it? And death!--why was it?_ The more I reasoned,
the further I was from demonstration. The more I thought, the more
scattered were my conclusions. I tried to stop thinking, but my
thoughts would not be controlled. I was truly wretched, but did not
understand _the cause_. I murmured and complained, but knew not of
whom. I knew that there was a wrong, but knew not how or where to find
the right. I mourned, but without hope.’ He continued in this state of
mind for some months, feeling that eternal consequences _might_ hang on
the nature and object of his belief.
“It devolved on Captain Miller, as usual in the minister’s absence,
to read a discourse of the deacons’ selection. They had chosen one
on the Importance of Parental Duties. Soon after commencing, he was
overpowered by the inward struggle of emotion, with which the entire
congregation sympathized, and took his seat. His deistical principles
seemed an almost insurmountable difficulty with him. ‘Soon after,
suddenly,’ he says, ‘the character of the Saviour was vividly impressed
upon my mind. It seemed that there might be a being so good and
compassionate as to himself atone for our transgressions, and thereby
save us from suffering the penalty of sin. I immediately felt how
lovely such a being must be; and imagined that I could cast myself into
the arms of, and trust in the mercy of, such an one. But the question
arose, How can it be proved that such a being does exist? Aside from
the Bible, I found that I could get no evidence of the existence of
such a Saviour, or even of a future state. I felt that to believe in
such a Saviour, without evidence, would be visionary in the extreme.
“‘I saw that the Bible did bring to view just such a Saviour as I
needed; and I was perplexed to find how an uninspired book should
develop principles so perfectly adapted to the wants of a fallen
world. I was constrained to admit that the Scriptures must be a
revelation from God. They became my delight; and in Jesus I found a
friend. The Saviour became to me the chiefest among ten thousand; and
the Scriptures, which before were dark and contradictory, now became
the lamp to my feet and light to my path. My mind became settled and
satisfied. I found the Lord God to be a rock in the midst of the ocean
of life. The Bible now became my chief study, and I can truly say, I
searched it with great delight. I found the half was never told me. I
wondered why I had not seen its beauty and glory before, and marveled
that I could have ever rejected it. I found everything revealed that my
heart could desire, and a remedy for every disease of the soul. I lost
all taste for other reading, and applied my heart to get wisdom from
God.’
“Mr. Miller immediately erected the family altar; publicly professed
his faith in that religion which had been food for his mirth, by
connecting himself with the little church that he had despised; opened
his house for meetings of prayer; and became an ornament and pillar in
the church, and an aid to both pastor and people. The die was cast, and
he had taken his stand for life as a soldier of the cross, as all who
knew him felt assured; and henceforth the badge of discipleship, in
the church or world, in his family or closet, indicated whose he was,
and whom he served.
“His pious relations had witnessed with pain his former irreligious
opinions; how great were their rejoicings now! The church, favored
with his liberality, and edified by his reading, but pained by his
attacks on their faith, could now rejoice with the rejoicing. His
infidel friends regarded his departure from them as the loss of a
standard-bearer. And the new convert felt that henceforth, wherever he
was, he must deport himself as a Christian, and perform his whole duty.
His subsequent history must show how well this was done.
“Soon after his renunciation of deism, in conversing with a friend
respecting the hope of a glorious eternity through the merits and
intercessions of Christ, he was asked how he knew there was such a
Saviour. He replied, ‘It is revealed in the Bible.’ ‘How do you know
the Bible is true?’ was the response, with a reiteration of his former
arguments on the contradictions and mysticisms in which he had claimed
it was shrouded.
“Mr. Miller felt such taunts in their full force. He was at first
perplexed; but, on reflection, he considered that if the Bible is a
revelation of God, it must be consistent with itself; all its parts
must harmonize, must have been given for man’s instruction, and,
consequently, must be adapted to his understanding. He therefore said,
‘Give me time, and I will harmonize all those apparent contradictions
to my own satisfaction, or I will be a deist still.’
“He then devoted himself to a prayerful reading of the word. He laid
aside all commentaries, and used the marginal references and his
Concordance as his only helps. He saw that he must distinguish between
the Bible and all the peculiar partisan interpretations of it. The
Bible was older than them all, must be above them all; and he placed
it there. He saw that it must correct all interpretations; and in
correcting them, its own pure light would shine without the mists
which traditionary belief had involved it in. He resolved to lay aside
all preconceived opinions, and to receive with child-like simplicity,
the natural and obvious meaning of the Scripture. He pursued the
study of the Bible with the most intense interest--whole nights as
well as days being devoted to that object. At times delighted with
truth, which shone forth from the sacred volume, making clear to his
understanding the great plan of God for the redemption of fallen man;
and at times puzzled and almost distracted by seemingly inexplicable
or contradictory passages, he persevered until the application of his
great principle of interpretation was triumphant. He became puzzled
only to be delighted, and delighted only to persevere the more in
penetrating its beauties and mysteries.