An Englishwoman in Utah. Mrs. T. B. H. Stenhouse
local-preachers and exhorters; and the greater number of the new-born Saints had come from that denomination with their former teachers, or else had followed them soon after.
The change from Methodist to Mormon was, in course of time, very strongly marked; but for a considerable period the same, or what seemed the same, influences were at work among the people. Remarkable scenes of excitement were often witnessed at the “love feasts;” and from the “anxious seats,” as they were called, might be heard, the entreaties of self-accusing souls, frightened by a multitude of sins, crying earnestly, nay, wildly, for grace, mercy, and the Holy Ghost; while many of the supplicants would fall upon the ground, completely overcome by nervous excitement. Then they would have visions, and beheld great and unutterable things; received the forgiveness of their sins; and, coming back to consciousness, believed themselves now to be the children of God, and new creatures; doubting not that they would ever after be happy in the Lord.
The experience of the Saints at their meetings, when Mormonism was first preached, was exactly similar to this. Into the psychological, moral, or religious causes of these scenes of excitement I cannot here enter;—I simply mention facts as they came under my own observation.
The Mormon Missionary often came upon whole communities in the rural districts of England, where this “good time” was in full operation; and being a man of texts he would follow up the revival, preaching that the spirit of the prophet was subject to the prophet, and not the prophet subject to the spirit. Controversy would arise, and his appeal to Scripture, literally interpreted, was almost invariably triumphant. Even in America, especially in New York and Ohio, the same causes produced the same effects. It was after his mind was excited by a general revival near his native place, that Joseph Smith, the founder of Mormonism, received his first religious impression, and saw, as he asserted, his first angelic vision. His followers, even in the early days of the Church, had revival-meetings and meetings at which the most extraordinary excitement was manifested—when the Saints fell into ecstatic trances, saw heaven opened, and spake with tongues. But Joseph, shrewd man as he was, albeit “a prophet,” when he found too many rival seers were coming into the field, announced by “special revelation,” that these too-gifted persons were possessed by devils, and that their visions and prophesyings must be at once suppressed. And he did suppress them.
Not long after my own baptism I was present at a meeting of this description, in Southampton. It was called a “testimony meeting,” and was held in a large upper room situated, if I rightly remember, in Chandos Street. No one from the outside would have supposed that it was the place of assembly of the Saints, for it was generally used for ordinary secular meetings, and I have heard that great objections were at first raised as to the propriety of letting it to the Mormons.
As we entered the door, we were saluted by Brother Williams, who expressed great pleasure at seeing us. There was a full attendance of the Saints, and every face wore an expression of peaceful earnestness. A person who has never attended a Mormon meeting can form no idea of the joyous spirit which seemed to animate every one present. I am not, of course, speaking of modern meetings, but of meetings as they used to be. Whence and whatever that “spirit” might be which moved the sisters and brethren when they met in early times, I cannot tell; but I, and with me, ten thousand Mormons and seceding Mormons in Utah, can, from our own experience, testify that that spirit no longer visits the Tabernacle services over which Brigham Young presides, or the meetings of the Saints since they adopted the accursed doctrine of polygamy, and forsook the gentle leadings of their first love.
Often have I heard Mormons of good standing and high position in the Church, lament the “good old times” as they called them, when the outpouring of the Spirit was so abundant, and mourn over the cold, barren services of the present day. But the elders explain this away. It is, they say, the fault of the people themselves, and because their own hearts have become cold.
At the meeting of which I speak, that happy spirit was peculiarly marked. An encouraging smile, or a kind word, greeted me on every side, and, as a newly-converted sister, I received the most cordial welcome. The brethren were seated on forms and chairs and any other convenient article which came to hand, while at the further end of the room was Brother Bench, who was to preside, and with him several other leading Elders. Brother Bench gave out a suitable hymn.
The whole congregation joined in the singing, and every heart seemed lifted up with devotion. Then another Elder rose, and offered a spirit-moving prayer; and then the brother who presided stated that for the time he withdrew his control of the proceedings, and, as the phrase was, he “put the meeting in the hands of the Saints,” exhorting them not to let the time pass by unimproved.
Then arose Brother Edwards, a well-tried champion of the faith, and to him every one listened with profound attention, eagerly drinking in his every utterance. I could almost, even now, imagine that he was really inspired. Then I firmly believed he was. His voice thrilled with an earnestness which seemed to us something more than the mere excitement of the soul. A burning fire seemed to flash from his large, expressive eyes; his features were lighted up with that animation which gives a saint-like halo to the earnest face when fired with indignation or pleading soul-felt truths; while his whole frame seemed to glow with the glory of a land beyond this earth, as in the most impressive and convincing language he reminded us that our sins had been washed away by the waters of baptism, that upon us had been poured the gifts and graces of the Spirit, and that it was our sacred privilege to testify of these things.
The effect of this exhortation was magical. We forgot all our outward surroundings, in the realization that the great work of the Lord was so gloriously begun, and that it would surely go on, conquering and to conquer. One sister—an elderly woman—who was present, unable to control her emotion, burst out with that Mormon hymn which I have heard some old Nauvoo Saints declare produced upon the people in those days an enthusiasm similar to that which moves the heart of every true Frenchman when he listens to the soul-stirring notes of the Marseillaise:—
The Spirit of God like a fire is burning!
The latter day glory begins to come forth;
The visions and blessings of old are returning,
The angels are coming to visit the earth.
We’ll sing and we’ll shout with the armies of heaven,
Hosannah! Hosannah to God and the Lamb,
All glory to them in the highest be given
Henceforth and for ever: Amen, and Amen.
I have often heard in magnificent cathedrals, hoary with the dust of time, and in vast places of amusement dedicated specially to music and to song, the outpouring of that glorious vocal flood, which a chorus of a thousand well-trained singers can alone send forth. I have felt sometimes that entrancing state of ecstasy which thrilled the soul of the seer in Patmos, as he listened to the melody of the angelic throng—“the voice of many waters, and the peal of mighty thunders, and the notes of harpers harping upon their harps;” but never, even when surrounded by all that was best calculated to produce a sentiment of devotion in my mind—never did I experience so rapt a feeling of communion with “the armies of heaven”—as I felt in that unadorned meeting-room, surrounded by those plain but earnest and united people.
Nor was I alone in this. The feeling was contagious. There was not one present who did not sympathize. And thus, I suppose, melody has always played a prominent part in all religious revivals, whether of divine or human origin. The Apostles had their psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs; the Martyrs their Te Deum; the Waldenses made the hills and vales of Piedmont vocal with their singing; the Lollards and Hussites had their melodies; and in more modern days the followers of Luther, Wesley, and (may I add?) Joseph Smith, have poured out the fulness of their souls after the same fashion.
The last notes of the hymn had scarcely died away when another, and then another brother, arose and bore testimony to the great work, told what the Lord had done for them personally, told of their zeal for the faith, and fervently exhorted all present to persevere unto the end. Again prayer was offered, another hymn sung, and the Saints were dismissed with a solemn benediction.