The mob seemed more quiet. The night before, a spike was thrown at me and hit me on the forehead, and fell into my Bible, and I put it into my pocket. Inexpressible pity and love for the crowd came over me, and as I was pointing sinners to the Lamb of God, with tears, I held up the spike, saying, “Some poor sinner cast this spike at me last evening. God pity him. The worst wish I have for him is, that he was this moment as happy as I am. Why should I resent his insult when my Master had them driven through his hands,” and at the moment raising my arms and placing my hands upon the ceiling behind me, in the position of Christ on the cross.
The Spirit of God accompanied the words and the gesture to the hearts of the crowd. Some shrieked, and a general groan was heard. “Hark! hark!” cried a score of voices. In a moment all was silent. In tears I was calling on sinners to turn and live. I spoke of the love of God, the sacrifice of Christ; his undying pity for vile sinners. I then spoke of his coming in glory to save all who would seek him now. More than a hundred were in tears. “Do you want to see a happy man,” said I; “please look at me.” Many were weeping aloud, and I was getting so hoarse that I could hardly be heard for the penitent cries and sobs of those around me. “Who are willing to seek Christ,” said I, “and with me suffer persecution, and be ready for his coming? Who in this crowd wish me to pray for them, that this may be their happy portion? As many as do, please rise up.” Nearly one hundred arose. It was nine in the evening, and I was hoarse and weary. I closed with benediction, took my chart and Bible, and made my way out through the subdued crowd. Some one locked arms with me to assist and guard me. His countenance seemed impressively familiar, yet I did not know him. When I had passed the crowd, I missed him, and, from that evening, who he was, or how he left me, and where he went, have been mysterious. Was it an angel of God, sent to stand by me in the perils of that evening? Who can say it was not?
My lectures continued in this place three or four evenings without the least opposition, and a general reformation followed. In about eight weeks I returned to the place again, and as I entered the door of an especial friend, near the old scene of battle, I recognized my Universalist friend. He had been driving some exciting conversation with the lady of the house about me. Both appeared greatly agitated as I entered. The lady greeted me cordially, but with expressions of astonishment that I was in her house again. The Universalist made for the door, and left in a most abrupt manner. The lady then stated that this man had been talking of me to her in a most abusive manner, and that the last statement he made as I came to her door was as follows: “White is a rascal. He has been overtaken in crime, and is safe in jail. One of my neighbors told me that he saw him yesterday in Augusta jail.”
This man was overtaken in his guilty folly in a manner he little expected. He had certainly succeeded poorly in his war against me. I did not see this Universalist, neither did I hear of him after his hasty retreat homeward, showing as much shame as the face of a guilty man is capable of silently expressing. But let the reader go back with me over these eight weeks to the time I closed my labors in this place.
An invitation came for me to visit Sidney, and lecture in the Methodist meeting-house. Cheerfully I accepted, and found a large house filled with attentive hearers. The first evening I spoke on the millennium with freedom. And as I entered the house the second evening, I was told that Elder Nickerson, the presiding elder, would be present that evening. I felt my youth, my lack of general knowledge of the Scriptures, and my brief experience in the things of God. I trembled for the result of that meeting, as I learned that this presiding elder was opposed to the doctrine I was teaching. I was on Methodist ground. This led me to pray most earnestly to God for help. My confidence that the Lord would be with me grew firm as I entered the pulpit.
“I learn,” said I, “that Elder Nickerson is in the congregation. Will he please take a seat with me, and join in the services of the evening?” He cheerfully came forward, and I gave him an Advent hymn from the Methodist book to read, and found him willing to pray. I then sung an Advent melody, and took this text: “But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of Heaven, but my Father only.” Matt. xxiv, 36. I stated,
1. That the subject was the second advent.
2. That God had not revealed the day nor the hour of that event.
3. That Christ did say, in this connection, that when his people should see the signs in the sun, moon, and stars, that they should know that his coming was near, even at the doors, as truly as men know that summer is near when they see the trees of the field send forth their buds and unfold their leaves.
4. That, as it was in the days of Noah, so should it be at the coming of the Son of man.