The Strength of the "Mormon" Position

by Orson F. Whitney

The Power of Music—Seeing for One's Self.

Music softens the heart, and helps men and women to receive the Gospel. Tourists come in a constant stream, to listen to the wonderful tones of the great organ and the singing of the splendid choir in the Salt lake Tabernacle. The Gospel is not always preached to them; they do not always want the Gospel; but they are mellowed by the music, and they go away with kinder feelings toward, and a better understanding of, the people who build such instruments, who organize such choirs, and rear such structures. Their works speak for them. Grapes are not gathered from thorns, nor figs from thistles. Depraved wretches, such as the "Mormons" are falsely represented to be, do not love music, poetry and philosophy, do not cultivate the arts and sciences, do not turn deserts into gardens, nor rear Tabernacles and Temples unto God.

I well remember when President Grant came to Utah—the first President of the United States to set foot within the Territory, now a State. It was at a time when, all over this broad land, the bitterest prejudice prevailed against the Latter-day Saints; and it was freely asserted that the man who had finished with the South, would "make short work of Utah and the Mormons." Among the places visited by the President and his party while in Salt Lake City, was the Tabernacle, where they heard the great organ. I do not know what he thought of it, but Mrs. Grant, her face streaming with tears, turned to Captain Hooper, who had been Utah's delegate in Congress, and said with deep feeling: "I wish I could do something for these good Mormon people." The music had touched her heart, and perhaps the heart of her noble husband; for General Grant was noble, though yielding at times to strong prejudice.

Before reaching the Tabernacle, he had passed up South Temple Street, lined on both sides with Sunday School children, neatly and tastefully attired, waving banners and mottoes of welcome to the Nation's Chief. Riding in an open carriage, and running the gauntlet of applause and cheers, the honored guest turned to Governor Emery, who sat at his side, and inquired concerning the juvenile host: "What children are these?" "Mormon children," replied Emery. Grant was silent for a moment, and then was heard to murmur, "I have been deceived."

But he never was deceived again—not in the same way. He could trust his eyes when he looked upon those beautiful children: they were not the product of crime and depravity, not the offspring of savages and criminals. He could trust his ears, too, when he heard that choir and organ. No one could make him believe, after that, that the "Mormons" were as black as they had been painted.

No Substitute for the Gospel.

There is more than one way to reach the human heart, and God has legitimate use for everything good, wise, virtuous and praiseworthy. Let it not be supposed, however, that music, poetry, painting, sculpture, philosophy, science, or anything else, can take the place of the Divine Plan whereby He proposes to save this world, as He has saved millions of worlds like it. He will use everything good and true and beautiful to melt the hearts of his children and prepare them for salvation; but salvation itself comes only by one route—the Lord Jesus Christ. This is the Great Ideal, and it must be honored as such. In dealing with it, no Procrustean process is permissible. It must not be chopped off because men think it too long, nor stretched out because they deem it too short. God did not send his Truth into the world to be mutilated. Men's theories, however plausible, cannot supersede divine revelation. The gifts of God, however precious, are no standard by which to judge the Giver. The Truth as Heaven reveals it is the Standard, and the opinions and theories of men must give way. There is no substitute for the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Propositions to be Reconciled.

Referring now to a passage previously quoted, concerning the days of Adam, when a decree went forth that the Gospel should be in the world "until the end thereof." I was once asked to reconcile that passage with the idea of a new dispensation, the question coming in this form: "If the Gospel was to be in the world from the days of Adam 'until the end', what was the need of restoring it—bringing it back again?"

There are two ways of reconciling these propositions. They do not really contradict each other. The Gospel has been in the world from the beginning by a series of dispensations, reaching through the entire range of human history. Our finite minds are prone to tangle themselves up in little details that cause endless quibbles and often give us a great deal of trouble; but God sweeps the whole universe with his infinite gaze, and what seem mountains to men are less than molehills in his sight. The gaps between the Gospel dispensations are not so wide to Deity as they are to us. The Lord has found it necessary at different times to temporarily withdraw the Gospel and the Priesthood from the midst of men; and yet, by repeated restorations, forming a continuous chain of dispensations, he has kept them in the world from the beginning down to the present, thus making good his ancient decree.