CHAPTER SIX.
THE ZORAMITES.
The sun was slowly sinking in the western sky, as the party of missionaries presented themselves at the main entrance to the city Antionum, the gateway of the north wall. They were permitted to pass in unchallenged, and inquired out a lodging house, where they all stayed together. Uninformed as to the exact nature of the heresy of the Zoramites, they had resolved to avoid proclaiming their mission, until they should become acquainted with the nature of the errors it was their hope to correct.
The day following their entrance into the city was the holy day of the Zoramites, when they repaired to the synagogues, of which there were many, to worship. The interior of their places of worship was gorgeously decorated. Near the center of each rose a stand, the top of which extended half the height from the floor to the ceiling. The stand proper rested on a sort of frustum of a cone. Up the sides were several flights of steps, and at the top of the frustum was standing room for a number of people; but in the stand proper there was room for but one. Each in his turn ascended the single flight of steps to the top of this holy stand—Rameumptom they called it—and stretching forth his hands towards heaven, exclaimed in solemn tones:
Holy, Holy, Holy God!
Thou art God, There is no God beside.
Spirit Bright, and Everlasting—
The same to-day and ever more.
Separate are we from men—
Elected us hast Thou and made us holy,
While all beside thou hast condemned;
For which, Most High, and Holy God we give Thee thanks—
That we are not as other men.
Separated are we from false traditions of the Christ—
That deep blasphemy of corrupted Nephites,
Who know not Thee as Spirit-God:
But as a man expect to see Thee
Come on earth, and all mankind redeemed!
For deliverance from such traditions vile
Most High and Holy God—I give Thee thanks!
Amen, amen, amen!
At the conclusion of every distinct thought in the above prayer, the company of worshippers at the top of the frustum would cry aloud—"Amen, amen!" And at the conclusion of the prayer an unseen choir accompanied by instruments, chanted selected and slightly altered passages of the above prayer such as—
"Holy, holy God! Thou art God. Thou are holy. Thou are spirit, and ever shall be—Holy is thy name! Amen! amen!"
Such was their form of worship, such their set prayers, as witnessed that day by Alma and his fellow missionaries.
After witnessing this mixture of impiety and hypocrisy, self-glorification, and abasement of those not of them. Alma thought it not necessary to wait longer in commencing the work, and hence, that night he laid hands upon the heads of his associates, blessed them and set them apart for the accomplishment of the work in hand. The next morning they separated for the better prosecution of their enterprise. They took no thought of themselves, what they should eat, or where they should be lodged. They preached in the synagogues, in private houses, and even in the streets.
No one in the beginning of this work was more zealous, or more successful than Corianton. Indeed it was his success that began to work a great mischief; for it filled him with pride and boasting in his own strength. By the force of his brilliancy, and a kind of genius for controversy, he discomfited the Zoramites, and exposed the shallowness of their principles to the great delight of the multitude who, though they believed not the message he was delivering, were immensely pleased with the youthful orator.
There were fundamental truths of the gospel, however, to which Corianton himself was not converted; the atonement of Christ, the resurrection, the justice of God in punishing the wicked, being among them. He found, as many since his day have found, that seeing a single manifestation of the power of God—a miracle—had not removed all the difficulties in the way of a sound faith in the gospel; and in his own mind he began to find ways of accounting for the destruction of Korihor's speech—his own excitement, the mysterious magnetism of his father which swayed men's minds, a power which he flattered himself he had inherited, notwithstanding his unbelief.
One day about sunset, while in this frame of mind, as he was passing down one of the main thoroughfares of Antionum, he saw a poor, wretched object begging of those who passed him on the street. He was miserably clad and filthy, his form emaciated and trembling with weakness, but there was something in the profile of the face, a resemblance to a countenance which lived in Corianton's recollection, that attracted his attention. As he approached nearer he observed a wildness about the man, occasioned by desperate efforts at speech, resulting only in harsh, disconnected and unintelligible mumbling. To his astonishment, it was Korihor. The form was wasted, the features shrunken almost past recognition, and insanity glared from his wild eyes. Corianton gazed in pity upon him, and Korihor returned that look with one of puzzled wonder. Then as the mists and confusion of his mind cleared up for the moment, he recognized his former, and what he accounted his false friend, and with a wild shriek fled out into the street, looking back at Corianton as he ran with an air expressive of horror. At that moment a troop of horsemen was passing down the street, and so sudden had been the poor half maniac's flight from the presence of Corianton, that he threw himself in front of the horsemen, and before they could check their speed or change their course, he was knocked down and trampled upon.
A crowd quickly gathered around the bruised and bleeding form. His case was notorious in Antionum, and it was generally believed that his dumbness was brought upon him through sorcery; hence, even while he was shunned by the people, there were many who sympathized with him, so far, at least, as execrating those who had been the means, as they thought, of bringing the evil upon him. Corianton ran to the man and raised him to a sitting posture, but he never regained consciousness; a few painful gasps, and the body sank back into the arms of the young man, limp and lifeless. One of the guards of the city came up to the crowd, and, recognizing the body as that of the dumb, half-crazed beggar, he took charge of it, and finally interred it.
As Corianton walked away with the mangled form of the once bold anti-Christ vividly pictured in his mind, he muttered half aloud—"This is one of the judgments of God—cruel, infinitely cruel! He above all others could have been generous and have pardoned him before his justice," and he fairly hissed the word, "had turned to cruelty!"
By this time he had reached his lodgings, one of the finest palaces in all that city, and strange enough, it was the home of one of the chief Zoramites who had been especially pleased, or at least feigned to be especially pleased, with Corianton, and had invited him to make his house his home. At the entrance to the walk leading up to the house, he was met by a woman, who asked if he was one of the Nephite prophets that had come to preach the doctrines of the Nephites to the Zoramites. Corianton answered that he was of that party. "And is your name Corianton?"
"Yes, that is my name."
"Then at last I have found you!"