Lovers of Pleasure

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Apr 29, 1875

Lovers of Pleasure.

A CORRESPONDENT from St. Lawrence Co., N. Y., sends us a description of a scene that recently took place in a church in that vicinity, which too truly illustrates the nature of much of the religion of the present day. We condense from it the following statements:—

Somewhere within the boundary of St. Lawrence Co., New York stands a little brown church, built for, and dedicated to, the service of the most high God.

Well do I remember hearing the founder of this little church relate the happiness he felt in contemplating this highly original idea of his of using a small portion of his vast accumulation in building this little Bethel, wherein prayer-loving people might meet to worship, with none to molest and none to make afraid. And perchance some idle Sabbath-breaker might stray in and, for the first time, hear of the merits of the blood of the crucified and risen Saviour, be reclaimed, and become a shining star in his crown in Heaven. This was a united church, owned by the M. E. and Presbyterian societies. So strenuously did they adhere to their first idea of keeping it a holy and consecrated temple, that about one year ago, they sanctimoniously closed and locked its doors against a minister of that sect called S. D. Adventists.

Now mark the sequel. Last week, learning by advertisement and the common chat of the people, that there was to be a common-school exhibition in that place, and urged by a particular friend, I consented to attend. Imagine my surprise as I found this temple of God, this very holy place fitted up for a scene of fun and frolic. The pulpit had been removed, and a large platform, or stage had been erected, divided off by partitions suitable for the occasion, and draped with fancy curtains, and the silver communion service reverently set aside. In short, the church was fitted up, pro tem, for a theater. An organ was placed upon the stage, and soon its notes resounded through that crowded room; but it was not a grandly solemn hymn of praise and thanksgiving fitting for the place, nor yet a funeral dirge, as I had often heard in that same church, but a lively, fitful opera air, fitting the occasion, and but an echo from the unsanctified heart of the performer.

Now the curtains rose, and the performance begun. Light, frivolous songs in which the Methodist chorister took part, love scenes, tableaux, comic negro songs walked out to time by the blackened singers; and finally a dance! only a cotillion to be sure, but where was it? In the very place where prayer was wont to be made. In the very place where I had seen many persons (and some of the same were present) kneel at the altar and receive the baptismal rite and partake of the sacrament, the bread and the wine, those solemn symbols of Christ’s broken body and shed blood. In the very place where I had seen the form quiver with suppressed grief, the tears fall, and heard the agonized wail from so many mourners over the lifeless clay of some near and dear relative, loved while present, and forgotten so soon. Not many of the actors but had taken part in some one of the above-described scenes.

That dancing scene was the last I saw; for I then hastened from the place; but I understand the revelry was kept until a late hour.

Would you like to know by what miracle this great change in the feelings of the joint holders of the church was wrought? I will tell you. Years ago, the fathers of the church, bought a couple of stoves for which they gave their notes on interest, and which had now run up to the formidable sum of twenty dollars, more or less, and for this paltry sum, as one expressed to me, they had sold their church, their religion, their respect and honor.