was being held with that church by Elders Quinnum and Hathern. They and
the church fully co-operated with me, and a good work followed. On the
last day I spent in this place I spoke forenoon and afternoon, then
invited sinners to come forward for prayers, and joined in prayer for
them. When we arose from our knees the sun was just setting, and I had
sixteen miles to go to my next appointment, which was that evening. A
friend held my horse at the door. I had labored excessively, and was so
hoarse that I could hardly speak above a whisper, and my clothes were
wet with sweat. I needed rest. But there was my next appointment. The
people would be together in about an hour, and I had sixteen miles to
go. So I hastily said farewell to the friends with whom and for whom I
had labored, mounted my horse and galloped away toward Lisbon Plains,
in a stinging cold February evening. I was chilled, but there was no
time to call and warm. My damp clothing nearly froze to me, but I
galloped on. As I rode up to the door of the house of worship, an aged
Freewill Baptist minister was saying to the crowd:
“I am sorry to say to the congregation that we are disappointed. The
speaker we expected to hear this evening has not come.”
As this minister raised his hands to dismiss the people with the
benediction, I cried: “Hold! I am here!”
“Good!” cried the minister; and the people sat down. They had been
waiting for me more than an hour. With a few words of explanation of
my late arrival, I commenced to speak; but I was so thoroughly chilled
that my chattering teeth would cut off some of my words. However, I
soon warmed up, and felt freedom in speaking.
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.