Twenty-five years in the West

by E. Manford

“You tell me new things. I will read the New Testament.”

The country south of Fort Wayne is flat, wet, and in those days was covered with a dense forest, and the settlers’ cabins were far apart—in some places, miles apart. I remember, when on this journey, of traveling a whole day without passing more than half a dozen houses. It was a dark, gloomy, foggy, rainy autumnal day, and the roads were in a wretched condition, in many places nearly impassable, the mud and water being so deep. When it was nearly dark, I met an ugly looking fellow, with a gun on his shoulder; and while inquiring of him about the road, I heard a distant noise, which seemed to be from some one in distress. I called his attention to it, and proposed that we ascertain what was the matter. He seemed to take no interest in the subject, and walked off in the opposite direction. I told him he was an inhuman creature, and that I should try to learn who was making that noise, for some body was surely in trouble; and immediately left the road, and plunged into the thick woods, in the direction whence the mournful sound proceeded. About a quarter of a mile from the road, I came to a small opening in the forest, where was a cabin, and in front of the cabin was a fire, and at the side of the fire was a young woman ironing clothes, and singing a mournful air as loud as she could scream. This was the noise I took to be cries of distress. I learned from her, that the fellow I had just seen was her husband, and that they had been married about two weeks, after three weeks acquaintance. I told her about meeting him in the road, and that I believed he was not there for a good purpose, and, moreover, that I was fearful she had married a scamp. Learning from her that it was ten miles to the nearest house, I bid her good-by, for I did not care about stopping long in that locality. While leading my horse back to the road, for the underbrush was so thick I could not ride, I heard several times a slight noise in the woods near me, but paid no particular attention to it. After much difficulty, and many scratches, I regained the road. But had proceeded but a short distance when I became satisfied that the man I had just seen was following me, for I could distinctly hear footsteps in the woods a few rods at the left. The night being very dark I could not see him, could hardly see my horse; and the mud being deep, and the horse tired, I could travel only at a slow gait. I stopped my horse, and peered into the dark, but nothing could be seen. The rascal came to a halt when I stopped. I dismounted on the right side of the horse, having him between me and the villain. Stood there, perhaps, fifteen minutes, without either party making the least noise, expected every moment to hear the crack of his gun. He finally made tracks from me as fast as he could run, and I remounted my horse and proceeded on my journey. He doubtless intended to rob me, steal my horse, and perhaps do worse; but presuming I was armed—but I was not—and seeing I was pretty resolute, he did not dare attack me without being sure of decided advantage. Being on that road again soon after, I learned that he had fled to parts unknown, leaving his wife, to escape being arrested for some crime.

The next day I reached Anderson, and delivered five discourses before I left. At the close of one of the sermons, a Methodist minister replied. He dwelt long on the words of the apostle Paul, “As it is appointed unto men once to die and after that the judgment.” Heb. ix. 28. I answered:

If the gentleman is correct in his understanding of this passage, it demolishes one tenet of Orthodoxy. The passage asserts, that “it is appointed unto men once to die.” Now, the creeds tell us, that temporal death is not of divine appointment, but rather contrary to the divine will. Man, say the creeds, was created immortal, and it was the will of God that he should not die; it was the divine appointment, that he should live forever. But in an evil hour, Adam, the first man, sinned, and brought temporal death on himself and on all his posterity, contrary to the divine appointment. If partialism is right here, this passage does not refer to temporal death; and if it does refer to temporal death, it is wrong in denying that temporal death is of divine appointment.

To what “men” does the text refer? for it does not say all men are appointed to die. Read the second verse following: “For the law having a shadow of good things to come, and not the very image of the things, can never with those sacrifices which THEY offered year by year continually make the comers thereunto perfect.” The pronoun “they” in this verse, as any one can see, refers to the “men” spoken of in the text. The apostle says, “they,” that is, the “men,” “offered sacrifices.” Now, all men do not offer sacrifices, neither are they required to. But under the Jewish law, a certain class of men were appointed to offer sacrifices for the sins of the people. They were the priests, and it is to them, and to them only, the text refers. According to the grammatical structure of the text and context, the “men” were a class whose business it was to offer sacrifices. It is certain, then, that the apostle does not speak of all men, but of a certain class of his countrymen. And this is confirmed by the fact, that in the Greek, the article tois is before the word men, and that article means the or these. Retaining the article, the passage reads, “And as it is appointed unto these men once to die.” What men? Why, the men appointed by the Jewish law to offer sacrifices.

But did these men “die” in their sacrifices? Yes, in the sense here intended. For the meaning of the apostle we must heed the connection in which the passage occurs. In the 16th and 17th verses, speaking of the first testament of the Jewish covenant, the apostle says, “For where a testament is, there must of necessity be the death of the testator, for a testament is of force when men are dead; otherwise it is of no strength at all while the testator liveth.” It is so now—no will, or testament, is in force till the testator is dead. Well, Moses was the testator of the Jewish covenant, and we know that was in full force before Moses died temporally. What kind of a death, then, does the apostle mean? Read on: “For when Moses had spoken every precept to all the people”—that is, given them the whole covenant—“according to the law, he took the blood of calves and goats, with water and scarlet wool, and myrrh, and sprinkled both the book”—that contained the covenant—“and all the people saying, This is the blood of the testament which God hath enjoined unto you.” This sacrifice which Moses then offered in the presence of the people, is what the apostle calls the death of the testator. He did not, of course, die temporally, but he shed blood, offered sacrifice, and thereby sealed the covenant, and that he terms the death of the testator. Well, we know that the Jewish priests were set apart, “appointed” to “die” for the people in the same sense Moses died to seal the covenant. The language with reference to Moses dying in his sacrifice, explains what is meant by the words, “it is appointed unto men once to die”—they died as Moses died.

There is reference here to the Annual Atonement of the Jews. On that great occasion, the priest, who was the most conspicuous personage, appeared before the assembled congregation—that appearing was typical of Christ’s first coming. The priest then offered sacrifice for the sins of the Jewish nation—that was typical of the death of Christ for the world. The priest then disappeared, and entered into the “Holiest of all”—that was typical of Christ entering into paradise. In due time the priest reappeared to the people—that was typical of Christ’s resurrection—his “second appearing.” The priest at his second appearing before the people, passed judgment on them, which was, that their sins were forgiven—and that was typical of the judgment passed on all who trust in the risen Savior. They behold him the second time, the risen, the glorified Savior, without sin unto salvation. His first appearing, was when he came in the flesh; his second appearing, when he showed himself to the world in his spiritual and glorified condition, and all who confide in the risen Redeemer, as the way, the truth, and the life, are blessed with life and salvation. To them he “appears the second time without sin unto salvation.”

I also delivered several discourses in Franklin. A Millerite, at the close of one of them, attempted to show that the New Testament teaches, that this earth will be destroyed. His chief reliance was on Matt. xiii. “That passage,” said he, “speaks of the end of the world, the harvest, and the furnace of fire. It is not figurative language. This world is to be burned up, and then the wicked will be cast into a lake of fire. I do not know when all this will take place. It may occur to-day, to-morrow, this year, next year; I know not the hour, day or year, but I do know that dreadful day of destruction will surely come, sooner, or later.”

I replied: The passage in Matt. xiii. affords the gentleman’s destructive theory no aid whatever. Learned men of all denominations tell us, that the “end of the world,” in that passage, is the end of the Jewish world, or age; that Christ had no reference to the destruction of this material earth. Bishop Pearce renders the original, “End of the age, viz: that of the Jewish dispensation.” Dr. Hammond translates it thus: “Conclusion of the age.” Dr. Cappe says, the words mean, “The accomplishment of the age, which in scripture language, uniformly relates to the Mosaic economy.” This interpretation is fully sustained by the New Testament. Speaking of Jesus, the apostle Paul says: “For then must he often have suffered since the foundation of the world: but now once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.” Heb. ix. 26. At the end of what world was Christ sacrificed? Not the end of this earth surely, for it has survived his death most two thousand years. According to the gentleman’s logic, this earth was all burned up eighteen hundred years ago, and it is all delusion that it now exists, turns on its axis, and revolves around yonder sun. In another place the apostle represents the end of the world as having taken place in his day: “And they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come.” 1 Cor. x. 11. If the apostle Paul was right, my friend here is miserably deluded. The Mosaic world, or era, did end in the apostolic age, and it is to that the New Testament always refers when it speaks of the end of the world.

“The harvest,” says Jesus, “is the end of the world.” In the Bible, the end of an era, a city, or nation, is called its harvest. Of the destruction of the city of Babylon, it is said, “For thus saith the Lord of Hosts, the God of Israel, The daughter of Babylon is like a threshing floor, it is time to thresh her; yet a little while, and the time of her harvest shall come.... And Babylon shall become heaps, a dwelling place for dragons; an astonishment, and a hissing, without an inhabitant.” Jer. li. 33, 37. The end of that city is called its harvest; so the end of the Jewish dispensation is called its harvest.