San Francisco by E. J. Hibbard

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D. C. · May 3, 1906

San Francisco

By E. J. Hibbard

THE earthquake is past, the fires have subsided; but San Francisco, in the main, lies in ruins. You have read the harrowing details in the daily papers.

You will want to know, however, how “our people” fared. This the papers have not recorded. They have not told of any class or creed.

At this writing, I do not know of a single instance where a hair of our heads has been injured. Homes, furniture, business places (if such they had) are wrecked or burned; but life is spared, thank God.

The vegetarian café survived the shock, but was afterward burned, as was also the “home” for the workers. The Branch Sanitarium and food store near it, both suffered heavily from the tremblers, and then burned to the ground. Practically nothing was saved. Dr. Lamb’s place was ruined by the shock, but no patient was injured, though the rooms were full. All life was saved; but the “stuff” was burned. Our house, 20 Pearl Street, was practically uninjured until the second day. It was surrounded by fire, and went with the rest.

We are encamped for the present, one block from where we lived, in a vacant lot, corner of Market and Laguna Streets. Our people are scattered throughout the various temporary camps. We do not care to collect them. They are witnessing for God and truth better as they are, mingled among the people.

All hearts are now open, and all conventionalities laid aside. One can address any one—man or woman—on the streets, anywhere, and converse freely. The huge multitude act like the people of a country village. We get acquainted without the formality of an introduction.

In my opinion this is the time to tell San Francisco what is coming next. It will listen. Specially prepared literature bearing on the signs of the times should be sent to 916 Laguna Street, our church address.

Our church was spared. It is uninjured, save for the fall of plaster and the warping of windows. Valencia Street Hall, our second meeting place, is also spared. The fire came within two blocks of the Laguna Street church and four blocks of the Valencia Street Hall.

This morning I looked over the San Francisco church directory. Out of a total of seventy Protestant churches and missions there remain not more than

twenty-seven not burned. Of these, very few, I fear, are fit to admit assemblies.

For the present, we have offered our church and dispensary for emergency purposes. Some four or five doctors and about eight nurses among us have also offered more or less free service.

Brethren, we now know something of how it will feel when “the earth shall reel to and fro like a drunkard.” To know and trust God in such an hour is worth more than the price of this material world.

How heavenly was our meeting in the church yesterday—the holy Sabbath day! How good the brethren looked! We read Isaiah 24, sang, prayed, and told our experiences. All thanked God that their lives were spared. They reconsecrated all to him. We all felt, and said, and voted that now is the time for us—unless God has special work for us here to perform—to vacate this wicked place. Men expect to rebuild, larger and grander than before. Yes, men will rebuild, and God will throw down. I tremble when I think of the final visitation of the Almighty.

Brethren, O my brethren! be ready for the great day of God. “It is near, and hasteth greatly.”

E. J. HIBBARD.

916 Laguna Street.