Twenty-five years in the West

by E. Manford

Proceeded to Dayton; and having reference to no one, I called on the sheriff, and engaged the Court-house for the next day—Sunday. Wrote some notices of the proposed meeting, and while putting them up in different parts of the town, a gentleman introduced himself, who proved to be the mayor of the city. He kindly informed me of a man of my faith, on whom I called, and was received with a hearty welcome. I delivered two discourses on Sunday, and on Monday morning was preparing to leave town, when several friends called on me, and urged me to remain, at least, a few months. The town, they said, had just been scourged by a crazy revival, and if I should tarry there awhile, they were sure a good society would be established. I told them I could not remain, as I was under obligation to travel to extend the circulation of The Berean, and must soon have, at least, seventy subscribers, to discharge my obligation to its publisher. “If that number should be obtained in this town, will you tarry with us?” queried the gentlemen. I replied, that I would. Notice was given that there would be a meeting that evening. I delivered a discourse, and at the close of it, a friend informed the congregation, that I had consented to remain three months, if seventy subscribers should be obtained in town for The Berean; and in a few minutes the required number were secured. We soon organized a society, a choir, and our meetings were well attended during my sojourn in that pleasant town. I wrote two sermons every week, and committed them to memory—did not take the manuscript into the desk with me. The society paid me one hundred dollars for my services. My health not being good, I declined remaining after the three months had expired I stipulated to remain. The society, after I left, built a meeting-house, and prospered for several years. I am not informed of its present condition.

While residing in Dayton, I visited Springfield, Centerville, and many other places within twenty or thirty miles of the city, in all of which I delivered my message. In the former place, George Messenger, a minister of the Common Salvation, was residing, and the society was building a meeting-house. D. R. Biddlecom, well known in the West as a minister of the Restitution, visited me while I resided in Dayton. He was then traveling and scattering the good seed broadcast over the land. He now lives in Dayton, and is still engaged in the good work.

Taking leave of my dear friends in Dayton, I proceeded to Cincinnati. Stopped in Mason, and delivered four sermons. Here I met Robert Smith, a singular kind of a man, but of considerable ability. He deemed it wrong to pray in public, baptize, or partake of the eucharist. Some of his views being offensive to our people, he was often coldly treated. This offended him, and he subsequently joined the Reformers, prayed in public, eat bread and drank wine every Sabbath, and taught that immersion in water is a condition of salvation. When I returned to Cincinnati, J. A. Gurley was publishing the Star in the West in that city. He was an active and enterprising man, possessed respectable talent, and was a forcible speaker. He was a popular preacher in the West, as long as he continued in the ministry. He made himself a beautiful home near Cincinnati, and lived under his own vine and fig-tree. Having made two or three hundred thousand dollars—on paper—by Chicago town-lots, he abandoned the Star and the ministry, and jumped into the muddy pool of politics. He was a member of Congress two terms, and when he died, was governor of Arizona. Here I met for the first time, George Rogers, a well known minister of our faith, and the author of several acceptable books. During his brief ministry, he traveled extensively in the South and West, publishing the glad tidings of life and immortality. He was a little man physically, but a great man intellectually and morally; his voice was feeble, but his words were weighty. He broke down a good constitution by hard labor, and died in the prime of life.

Mr. Rogers had recently traveled in the interior and western portions of Indiana, and advised me to spend a few months in those sections of that state. In a few days I was on the road, bound for Indiana. It was then the middle of May, 1838, and I did not expect to return till the latter part of autumn. Mounting my faithful horse, I rode to Harrison, where I preached in the evening. As soon as I had said amen, George Campbell, a Reformer, expressed a desire to reply. He was told he would be heard with attention. Among other things he remarked, “That Universalism is a new doctrine, and therefore cannot be the gospel, for that is old—most eighteen hundred years old.” I replied, that it was as old as revelation; and that several of its distinguishing features were revealed to our first parents by the Creator. To them he said, “In the day you sin you shall surely die.” They did sin, and they died the death threatened. St. Paul calls it a “death in trespasses and in sins;” “to be carnally minded,” he says, “is death,” and he terms this death the wages of sin. This is the death—a moral death—that God threatened the primitive pair; and if we sin we die the same death—no mistake about that. Mark also the important fact, that they were to suffer this punishment in THE DAY they sinned. It was not to be deferred till the next day, next year, or next world, but in the day, when and where they sinned, they were to begin to suffer the penalty of transgression. It is as true now as it was six thousand years ago, that in the day we sin we are punished; it is as true in this town as it was in the Garden of Eden, that in the day we sin we are punished; it is as true of us as it was of Adam and Eve, that in the day we sin we are punished. Truth is eternal; the laws of God are unchangable, the same yesterday, to-day and forever. As sin and its penalty were chained together in the beginning, it is thus now, and ever will be thus. Here then, in the beginning, we are taught the certainty of punishment—“in the day you sin you shall be punished;” and here also we are taught, that punishment is immediate—in the day they sinned the penalty was to overtake them. These ancient truths we believe and preach—they are portions of the gospel. But my friend, Mr. Campbell, denies all this. He contends that punishment is not certain, is not immediate; that a person may sin three-score years and ten, without being punished, for remember, he denied that God judges in the earth; he said, that was a new doctrine, one of our heresies, it was not taught in the Bible. He also teaches, that a man, after spending seventy years in crime of the blackest dye, can, by complying with certain conditions, escape all punishment in eternity, and occupy as high a seat in heaven as St. Paul or St. John. In a word, Mr. C. denies squarely and fully the everlasting truth of the ancient record, that “in the day you sin you shall be punished.”

But the gentleman is not the first to make that denial, and this is not the first place where this truth has been called a lie. He has an ancient precedent, he is following an old leader, has taken lessons from an old master. The serpent preached in Eden’s garden just what the gentleman has been preaching here to-night, with so much zeal. “Ye shall not surely die,” said his snakeship; God will not surely punish you; there is a way to escape. Besides, don’t believe a word of it, that you will be punished in the day you sin. Mr. C. has taken the serpent’s text this evening, and I give him credit for sticking to the text of the father of lies. Our doctrine, then, relative to punishment, is not new, neither is Mr. Campbell’s doctrine, concerning punishment, new. But ours and his came from different sources; one is of God, who is the author of truth, the other is of the serpent, the father of lies. They are both ancient doctrines, but judge ye which is true.

The doctrine of salvation—universal salvation—is not a new thing, either, under the sun, as Mr. C. affirmed. Immediately after sin, and its dire results, entered into the world, and while the first sinners were yet trembling with guilt in the blissful garden, it was revealed to them that the seed of the woman should bruise the serpent’s head. It is generally considered that “the seed of the woman” was the future Christ, whose advent occurred four thousand years afterwards. This seed was promised through the Jewish patriarchs—“In thee and in thy seed shall all nations of the earth be blessed.” And St. Paul distinctly asserts, that Jesus is here intended. “Now to Abraham and his seed were the promises made. He saith not, And to seeds, as of many; but as of one, And to thy seed, which is Christ.” Gal. iii. 16. The seed, then, promised to our first parents, and to the patriarchs, was Jesus Christ. He was to bruise the serpent’s head. Serpent, in the Bible, is a symbol of sin. As a serpent is a low, vile and cruel reptile, so vice is low, vile and cruel. It worms its slimy folds into our thoughts, purposes, character, and life, and is sure to poison every thing it touches. But Jesus Christ is to bless all nations, by bruising the serpent’s head. When we wish to kill a snake, our blows are aimed at his head; so Jesus is to crush the head of the serpent, that is, destroy sin, and thus bless all nations, as the patriarchs were promised.

Three vitally important truths, then, were revealed to mankind in the morning of creation. 1st. Punishment for transgressing is certain. 2d. It is immediate. 3d. Sin and its results are temporary, for it is the purpose and promise of God that the seed of the woman shall make an end of sin, and thus bless all the nations of the earth.

As soon as Mr. Campbell’s discourse was disposed of, a Presbyterian minister, by the name of Thomas, spent half an hour in trying to prove that countless millions of Adam’s race would be the victims of Almighty wrath, world without end. I replied to him, and when we got through it was midnight. The congregation was large, and was so deeply interested that nearly all remained till that late hour. The next Sunday, I delivered two discourses in the Snow Settlement, to immense assemblies. The meetings were held in a grove, and a wagon was my pulpit. In Brookville, I also spoke to the people. Father St. John, a venerable man, resided there, and for many years occasionally dispensed the word of life. His silvery locks are now in the grave, but his soul, I trust, is with God. Spent several days in West Union, and although I told the people that God was their Father, Friend and Benefactor, some treated me with bitter malignity—threatened to drive me out of town, and even to horse-whip me. Since then, a better spirit has prevailed. There is now a society and meeting in that place. Let not the reformer despair if his mission is rejected; every crucified truth will rise again, and go on conquering and to conquer.

Spent a Sunday in Connersville, preached twice, and heard John O’Kane, a noted minister among the Reformers, once. He has, since then, held several oral debates with our ministers. Not knowing much about the faith of his sect, I asked him the following questions, and received the subjoined answers:

“What must we do to be saved?”