Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jun 24, 1880
General Articles.
By Mrs. E. G. White
THE SANCTUARY.
BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.
THE tabernacle constructed by the Hebrews in the wilderness was made according to the divine command. Men called of God for this purpose were endued by him with more than natural abilities to perform the most ingenious work. Yet neither Moses nor these workmen were left to plan the form and workmanship of the building. God himself devised and gave to Moses the plan of that sacred structure, with particular directions as to its size and form, the materials to be used, and every article of furniture which it was to contain. He presented before Moses a miniature model of the heavenly sanctuary, and commanded him to make all things according to the pattern showed him in the mount. And Moses wrote all the directions in a book, and read them to the most influential of the people.
Then the Lord required the people to bring a free-will offering, to make him a sanctuary, that he might dwell among them. "And all the congregation of the children of Israel departed from the presence of Moses. And they came, every one whose heart stirred him up, and every one whom his spirit made willing, and they brought the Lord's offering to the work of the tabernacle of the congregation, and for all his service, and for the holy garments. And they came, both men and women, as many as were willing-hearted, and brought bracelets, and ear-rings, and rings, and tablets, all jewels of gold; and every man that offered, offered an offering of gold unto the Lord.
"And every man, with whom was found blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen, and goat's hair, and red skins of rams, and badger's skins, brought them. Every one that did offer an offering of silver and brass brought the Lord's offering; and every man, with whom was found shittim wood for any work of the service, brought it.
"And all the women that were wise-hearted did spin with their hands, and brought that which they had spun, both of blue, and of purple, and of scarlet, and of fine linen. And all the women whose heart stirred them up in wisdom spun goat's hair.
"And the rulers brought onyx stones, and stones to be set, for the ephod, and for the breastplate; and spice, and oil for the light, and for the anointing oil, and for the sweet incense."
Great and expensive preparations were necessary. Precious and costly materials must be collected, but the Lord accepted only the free-will offerings. Devotion to the work of God, and sacrifice from the heart, were first required in preparing a dwelling-place for the Most High. And while the building of the sanctuary was going on, the Israelites, old and young, men, women, and children, brought their offerings, until those in charge of the work decided that the people had brought enough, and even more than could be used. And Moses proclaimed throughout the camp, saying, "Let neither man nor woman make any more work for the offering of the sanctuary. So the people were restrained from bringing."
The repeated murmurings of the Israelites, and the visitations of divine wrath because of their transgressions, are recorded in sacred history for the benefit of God's people who should afterward live upon the earth; but more especially to prove a warning to those who should live near the close of time. Also their acts of devotion, their energy, and liberality in bringing their free-will offerings to Moses, are recorded as an example for all who truly love the worship of God. If God's people prize the blessing of his sacred presence, they will manifest zeal and liberality in preparing a house where he may meet with them. And their interest in this work will be as much greater than that shown in preparing dwellings for themselves as heavenly blessings are esteemed of more value than earthly comforts.
Many will expend means freely to erect comfortable and even elegant houses for themselves; but when they would prepare a place in which to receive the presence of the high and holy One their offerings are bestowed grudgingly, and they are continually studying in what manner the sacred building can be made to cost the least, and yet answer the purpose as a house of worship. Some manifest more interest in building barns for their cattle, than they do in preparing a place for the worship of God. Such persons value sacred privileges just in the proportion which their works show. And their prosperity and spiritual strength will be according to their works. God will not cause his blessing to rest upon those who have so little appreciation of the value of divine things. Unwilling and stinted offerings are not accepted of God. Those who manifest an earnestness to bring to the Lord acceptable offerings, of the very best they have, as did the children of Israel in bringing their gifts to Moses, will be blessed in proportion to their estimate of the value of sacred things.
It is of some consequence that a building prepared expressly for divine service should be arranged with care, — made comfortable, neat, and convenient; for it is to be dedicated to God; he is to be entreated to abide in that house, and make it sacred by his holy presence. An amount sufficient to accomplish the work should be freely given, and the workmen be able to say, Bring no more offerings. A house built for God should never be left in debt, for he would thereby be dishonored. He is acquainted with every heart, and will reward all who freely return to him, when he requires, that which he has given them. If any withhold that which belongs to God, he will afflict them in their families, and cause decrease in their possessions, just according to their disposition to rob him.
The tabernacle was so constructed that it could be taken apart and borne with the Israelites in all their journeyings. Yet it was a structure of extraordinary magnificence. The walls consisted of upright boards heavily plated with purest gold. The sacred building was composed of two apartments, separated by a rich and beautiful curtain, or vail. A similar vail closed the entrance of the first apartment. These vails, with the curtain which formed the ceiling of the tabernacle, were of a variety of colors, most beautifully arranged; while inwrought with threads of gold and silver were cherubim, to represent the angelic host, who are connected with the work of the heavenly sanctuary, and who are ministering angels to the saints upon the earth.
In the inner apartment was the ark, which was the most sacred object connected with that system of worship. It was a chest of precious wood, overlaid within and without with pure gold, and having a crown of gold about the top. In the ark were placed the tables of stone upon which God had engraved with his own finger the ten commandments. It was made expressly for this purpose, and hence was called the ark of the covenant, and the ark of the testament, since the ten commandments were God's covenant, and the basis of the covenant made between God and Israel.
The cover of this sacred chest was called the mercy-seat. This was a costly and magnificent piece of workmanship. It was beaten out of one solid piece of gold, and two cherubim were made, one standing on each end, beaten out of the same piece of gold. Their faces were turned toward each other, and were looking reverently downward toward the mercy-seat, which represents all the heavenly angels looking with interest and reverence to the law of God deposited in the ark in the heavenly sanctuary. One wing of each angel was stretched forth on high, while the other covered their forms. The ark of the earthly sanctuary was the pattern of the true ark in Heaven. There, beside the heavenly ark, stand living angels, each with one wing overshadowing the mercy-seat, and stretching forth on high, while the other wings are folded over their forms in token of reverence and humility.
The vail of the sanctuary did not reach to the top of the building. The glory of God, which was manifested above the mercy-seat, was partially visible from the first apartment. Directly before the ark, but separated by the curtain, was the golden altar of incense. The fire upon this altar was kindled by the Lord himself, and was sacredly cherished by feeding it with holy incense, which filled the sanctuary with its fragrant cloud, day and night. Its fragrance extended far around the tabernacle. When the priest offered the incense before the Lord, he looked toward the mercy-seat. Although he could not see it, he knew it was there; and as the incense arose like a cloud, the glory of the Lord descended upon the mercy-seat, and filled the most holy place, and often so filled both apartments that the priest was unable to officiate. As the priest in the holy place, directed his prayer by faith to the mercy-seat, which he could not see, so the people of God direct their prayers to Christ before the mercy-seat in the heavenly sanctuary. They cannot behold their Mediator with the natural eye; but with the eye of faith they see Christ before the mercy-seat, and direct their prayers to him, and with assurance claim the benefits of his mediation.
These sacred apartments had no windows to admit light. The candlestick, beaten out of one solid piece of gold, was kept burning day and night, and gave light to both apartments. The gold-plated walls, reflecting the light from the seven lamps of the golden candlestick, the richly embroidered curtains of blue and purple and scarlet, with their shining cherubim, the table of show-bread and the altar of incense, glittering like burnished gold, presented a scene of magnificence and glory which no words can describe.
278No mortal eye but that of the high priest could look upon the sacred grandeur of the inner apartment, the especial dwelling-place of God's visible glory. Only once a year could the high priest enter there, after the most careful and solemn preparation. With trembling he went in before God, and the people in solemn silence waited his return, their hearts uplifted to God in earnest prayer for the divine blessing.
Before the mercy-seat, God conversed with the high priest. If he remained an unusual time in the most holy, the people were terrified, fearing that because of their sins, or some sin of the priest, the glory of the Lord had slain him. But when the sound of the tinkling of the bells upon his garments was heard, they were greatly relieved. He then came forth and blessed the people.
After the building of the tabernacle was completed, Moses examined all the work, comparing it with the pattern, shown him in the mount and the directions he had received of God, and all the multitude of Israel pressed in crowds around the tabernacle, set upon an eminence, to view it with critical eye. They regarded it perfect. They saw the golden furniture carried in, the altar and laver put in position, and while they were contemplating the full effect with reverent satisfaction, suddenly their attention was attracted to the pillar of cloud which had conducted their travels through the wilderness. The cloud arose and floated over the tabernacle, then descended and embraced it. There was a revealing of divine majesty, and the dazzling splendor was overwhelming; even Moses was not able to enter the burning glory which enshrouded the tabernacle until the cloud had in a measure hid the exceeding brightness, for every human eye had been shaded.
Thus the Lord signified that he accepted the tabernacle built for his presence; and ever after this manifestation, when the children of Israel encamped, directly over the tabernacle rested the pillar of cloud by day, and the bright glory in the pillar of fire by night. When the cloud ascended they knew this was the signal for them to resume their march onward. When it continued to rest over the tabernacle they were to rest from their journeying. When the Lord signified his acceptance of their work in the manifestation of his glory, the hearts of the people were inspired with awe, and with gratitude. There was no noisy demonstrations of joy but with softened hearts, and flowing tears they murmured low, yet earnest words of thankfulness that God had approved the work of their hands, and had condescended to dwell more directly with them than ever before.
The Lord directed the Israelites in all their travels through the wilderness. When it was for his glory and the good of the people, that they should pitch their tents in a certain place, and there abide, God signified his will to them by permitting the pillar of cloud to rest directly over the tabernacle. And there it remained until God would have them journey again. Then the cloud was lifted up high above the tabernacle, and they journeyed again. In all their journeyings they observed perfect order. Every tribe bore a standard, with the sign of their father's house upon it, and every tribe was commanded to pitch by their own standard. And when they traveled, the different tribes marched in order, every tribe under their own standard. When they rested from their journeyings, the tabernacle was erected, and the different tribes pitched their tents in order, in just such a position as God had commanded, around the tabernacle, at a distance from it.
When the people journeyed, the ark of the covenant was borne before them. "And the cloud of the Lord was upon them by day, when they went out of the camp. And it came to pass, when the ark set forward, that Moses said, Rise up, Lord, and let thine enemies be scattered; and let them that hate thee flee before thee. And when it rested, he said, Return, O Lord, unto the many thousands of Israel."
THE GREAT QUESTION.
By Alice Cary
"How are the dead raised up, and with what body do they come?" 1 Cor. 15:35.
THE waves they are wildly heaving,
And bearing me out from the shore,
And I know of the things I am leaving,
But not of the things before.
O Lord of love, whom the shape of a dove
Came down and hovered o'er,
Descend to-night with heavenly light,
And show me the farther shore.
There is midnight darkness o'er me,
And 'tis light, more light, I crave;
The billows behind and before me
Are gaping, each with a grave;
Descend to-night, O Lord of might,
Who died our souls to save;
Descend to-night, my Lord, my Light,
And walk with me on the wave!
My heart is heavy to breaking
Because of the mourners' sighs,
For they cannot see the awak'ning,
Nor the body with which we arise.
Thou who for sake of men didst break
The awful seal of the tomb,
Show them the way into life, I pray,
And the body with which we come.
Comfort their pain and pining
For the nearly wasted sands,
With the many mansions shining
In the house not made with hands;
And help them by faith to see through death
To that brighter and better shore,
Where they never shall weep who are fallen asleep,
And never be sick any more.
—Alice Cary.
MORMON MUMMERIES.
THE so-called exposure of the secrets of the Mormon Endowment House by the Salt Lake Tribune has caused considerable comment. It is, perhaps the most disgusting picture of polygamy yet presented. The ceremonies consist of the most senseless and indecent mummeries that can be conceived. God and his angels are personated in the performance, as well as the devil and his imps. The room is painted to represent Heaven, and those about to be initiated must enter it in stocking feet, and with bowed heads and abject demeanor. The Apostles, of course, need not be so particular. They can enter without ceremony. Grips, signs and passwords are given, some of them most nonsensical, and all of them indecent. The woman's dress, if dress it can be called that covers nothing, is something similar in shape to the bed-gowns worn by our grandmothers, except that it is without any fastenings, and the man's dress is
about equally absurd and indecent. The man is told that he must enter Heaven through his own good deeds and the faithful performance of his duties to the Church, and that the more wives he has the more fit for celestial blessings he will become. The woman is informed that her husband is her God, and that it is to him alone that she must look for admission into the Heavenly regions. Pity it is that people can be persuaded to call such stuff religion, and imagine that by such vulgar and senseless ceremonies they are prepared for the life everlasting. Yet so it is. Every month thousands of new recruits arrive at Salt Lake, some of them, especially the women, apparently educated, intelligent and refined. There is but one remedy. Polygamy and all of its abominations are strictly prohibited by the laws of the United States. Let those laws be promptly and rigorously executed. —San Jose Mercury.
Turkish Intolerance
TURKISH INTOLERANCE.—Dr. Jessup, writing from Beyrout, Syria, says the Government at Constantinople has given notice that hereafter any Moslem who becomes a Christian will be put to death, and that any foreigners subverting Moslemism by teaching Christianity shall be imprisoned without notification to their consuls.
"TOUCHED WITH THE FEELING OF OUR INFIRMITIES."
THERE is no truth taught in the word of God more precious and full of comfort to those who are suffering from temptation than this: that out of Christ's suffering, when tempted, flows Christ's sympathy for us when we are tempted. "We have not an high-priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but one who was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. For in that he himself hath suffered, being tempted, he is able to succor them which are tempted."
"Touched with a sympathy within,
He knows our feeble frame;
He knows what sore temptations mean,
For he hath felt the same."
Because we are sinners and are beset with temptations, we need one who was also tempted, but is "without sin," to strengthen and encourage us to resist our besetments. But it is said that, because Christ was sinless, he could not have experienced those, temptations which spring from the corruptions of our nature. How can he sympathize with us if he did not suffer just as we suffer? It is not necessary that one being should suffer precisely as another suffers, in order to sympathize with him. We can sympathize with those in pain, though our suffering may never have taken precisely the same form. It is only necessary for us to have suffered in order to know what suffering means. The man Jesus had not all the phases of suffering that we have—he did not have the anguish or the weakness that comes from yielding to temptation; and if he could have had such an experience, it would not have made his sympathy for us more complete." Perfect purity is necessary to perfect sympathy. Sin does not quicken feeling—it deadens it; and it is just because the Saviour did not sin that he sympathizes with those who do. For he "suffered, being tempted," and doubtless in that suffering had a vivid conception of the more terrible suffering of those who sin.
Two conditions, then, of perfect sympathy meet in Christ: suffering and sinlessness. The fact of his perfect holiness, as well as the fact that he was tempted, gives him perfect sympathy. "No woman mourns so deeply over a fallen sister as she who is all purity and would fly with fear from a tainting thought. So Christ's sweet sympathy springs from his spotless purity." And his sympathy is in some sense a participation of the sufferings of the tempted. He is moved, "touched," and suffers with the suffering; and
"In his measure feels afresh
What every member bears."
That this is Christ's sympathy for the tempted was shown in the persecution of the saints by Saul of Tarsus. "The Mediator, feeling their pangs in his own heart, arose from his throne, arrested Saul and demanded, 'Why persecutest thou me?' The head on the throne felt the pain inflicted on his footstool." In that he suffered, being tempted, he is touched with the feeling of our infirmities and is able to succor us in temptation—able, not only because on the side of his humanity he became personally acquainted with temptation, but able, because he is God, and will not suffer us to be tempted above that which we are able to endure, "but will, with the temptation, make a way for our escape that we may be able to bear it." Thanks be to God for a divine Saviour who can be "touched with the feeling of our infirmities."—The Methodist.
"PIOUS LYING."
By Editor
THAT was the heading we saw in a daily paper, in staring capitals, last week. Pious lying! An inspection of the article showed what the words meant—lying done by professedly pious people, for pious ends, on the principle that the end justifies the means. Used in this sense, the words become not only intelligible but significant.
For it must be confessed that there has been a vast deal of this kind of lying in the world. It is due to pious lying that there is enough "wood of the true cross" in existence to build a man-o'-war; that several Cathedrals lay claim to the possession of the only genuine "relics" of this or that apostle or saint; that juggling "miracles" are performed in the presence of the credulous "faithful." Pious lying has invented all the legendary lore of Romanism. Pious lying encourages sham appearances of the Virgin at Lourdes and Marburg, and it has been proved in open court that priests aid and abet these impositions for a so-called religious end. Pious lying has invented all sorts of fables about the dying beds of notorious infidels. We expect to hear from Christian pulpits the assertion that Julian the apostate died exclaiming, "Galilean, thou hast conquered!" and that Voltaire's death-bed was a scene of blaspheming despair, notwithstanding both fables have been disproved again and again. The repeaters of these pious lies are generally innocent; which makes the case still worse, for the most dangerous of lies is that which has come to be accepted as truth.
Protestants are usually wont to assume a superior virtue, and to thank God they are not as other men in this matter of pious lying. But we have heard of a Protestant church, not a thousand miles from here, which habitually makes false statements about its financial condition. We have known prominent pastors accustomed to take to a newspaper office articles written by themselves, and containing the grossest exaggerations of their church work. We have known churches to dismiss their pastors for good reasons, and then pass a series of resolutions commending them to sister churches in terms that would have made an apostle blush. We have heard a pastor descant in a funeral sermon on virtues that no one had discovered in the dead but himself, and even he not while the man was in the flesh. We have heard of Christian laymen who seem to have the habit of attaining their ends but by trickery, indirection and deceit, even when plain-dealing would be a straighter and surer road to success.
Such instances are more than enough to show that "pious lying"—which may include deeds as well as words—is not the unknown thing it ought to be among the people of whom no man has a right to expect the like. The ordinary social code of Anglo-Saxon people everywhere stamps lying with an ineffaceable brand of disgrace. To lie is a thing that any gentleman scorns to do, simply because lying is so unutterably mean that he will not lower himself to do it. Shall the moral standard of the church of Christ be less lofty than that of society? It will not do for Christian people to make any exceptions in this matter. A lie is a lie, by whomsoever told and for whatsoever purpose. Every Christian's word should be as good as his bond, and until it is, not only in relation to business affairs but in every relation of life, the church will fail of securing that respect which unswerving honesty always inspires.—Examiner and Chronicle.
Faith and Holy Obedience
Faith is the parent of all holy obedience,
“THE SHINING SHORE.”—ITS AUTHORSHIP.
By Z. East
At the Paris Exposition in 1867—having been then several years absent, and having heard in the meantime scarcely anything in worship but Old-Country tunes, Scotch psalms and cathedral chants—the writer went on a Sabbath to “attend meeting” in the little American Chapel in Paris, situated on a “Rue,” that leads off at right angles from the Champs Elysees. Going to that resort of good Americans abroad was in some sense like going home. At the meeting a young American girl, dressed in the fashion of that fashion-setting city, sat at an American melodeon, and played while she and others sang that pre-eminently American hymn or religious song:
My days are gliding swiftly by,
and best known as “Shining Shore.”
Perhaps nowhere in Europe, except in this American colony, could this American tune have been heard in church worship. And it was a very strange hymn indeed, to be heard in that pleasure-seeking city, and at a time when all the world had gathered there to partake of its pleasures, in a Vanity Fair; and to be heard pealing out from that little chapel on the grand boulevard and thoroughfare, the Champs Elysees, where at that very time, might have been seen and heard the vast tide of frivolous and fashionable society that rolled itself over the smooth broad-way, on every Sabbath, from the gay city, forth and back, from the Bois de Boulogne. Strange words were these to come forth in the melodious strains of that tune, and be poured out like unregarded incense, upon such a throng:
My days are gliding swiftly by,
And I, a pilgrim stranger,
Would not detain them as they fly,
Those hours of toil and danger;
For Oh! we stand on Jordon’s strand,
Our friends are passing over;
And just before the shining shore
We may almost discover.
No looking forward among that crowd on the boulevard to any shining shore beyond the gilded edge of the fleeting moment! It was an American girl who played the melodeon, and led in the singing of that cheering song of hope in the city of Paris; one who, probably, living in fashionable city life, had nevertheless been trained in an American Sabbath-school; and it brought to mind the days of the past that glided by, of her home and her girlish companions and the privileges of her own country, to play and sing that tune, as she used to do in the prayer-meeting room, or church parlors. And nothing to be seen or heard was so pleasant to us, weary travelers, so homelike, as a breeze from fatherland, as the hearing of that national hymn and tune, in the American chapel in Paris.
But who was the author of that hymn? Who constructed it into an American institution by putting its sentiment in the form of words? And who made its music? For, after all it is the music that makes most of the life of the words of our beautiful hymns and our stirring songs. The older hymn books, and those not very old at that, say of the words that they are “anonymous;” and to the tune of “Shining Shore,” G. F. Root’s name is given as the composer. Root, then, made the music, and set that melody floating through the world. Geo. F. Root is a Chicago man. While at a summer recreation at the East, at the home of his childhood, his mother brought him a scrap of a newspaper, with a piece of poetry upon it, which she said she thought was a good piece for him to set to music. The reading of it stirred a strain in his soul, and he fitted the symbols of song to the anonymous words and sent them forth from Chicago on melodious wings. Since the words were thus canonized, we see in the latter hymn books, at least in Moody’s, the name of David Nelson printed as the writer of the words.
But who is David Nelson, who composed this hymn of the human heart? A hymn does not of itself tell much of the history of its writer, though it may make him a poet, and give him fame when he is known, as the elegy on the burial of Sir John Moore made its author, Rev. Charles Wolfe, a famous poet. This David Nelson was the author of a book, the “Cause and Cure of Infidelity,” which is better known for its own sake than by the name of its author. It is said to be a remarkable book, one unique in itself, as a moral medicine for the cure of a very malignant, spiritual disease, and published by the religious societies. Its authorship is stated to be David Nelson, M. D.,—doctor of medicine, writing for the cure of a disease of the soul, and not a Doctor of Divinity; and he never probably had the initials D. D. applied to him except in courtesy.
Dr. David Nelson, the author of one famous book and one hymn, made more famous by Geo. F. Root’s musical genius, was born at the South, and bred a physician and practiced medicine in Tennessee or Kentucky. At what time he was born is not known to the writer; and he is not aware that any biography of him has ever been written. It was at the period of manhood a Southern slaveholder, and as to religion, an infidel; and, report says, a scoffing infidel. After he became a man of business, he was converted from his infidelity; and after that, it appears, was converted to genuine Christianity. Then it was that he wrote that celebrated book on Infidelity from his own experience. It has been a great help to many of his fellow-men, in delivering them from the entanglement of heart and thought on the subject of Divine revelation.
From the rich experience of his later life came the beautiful hymn known as “Shining Shore,” which is a song of joy and exultation to every enlightened Christian heart. There is nothing in the philosophy or the eloquence of Paine or Ingersoll that will buoy the soul up like the words and spirit of this hymn, “Should coming days be cold and dark,” when men must feel the want of a higher source for light and warmth. For none can get heat or cheerfulness from the embers that come of their own combustion.
While a physician to the body he became a minister of the gospel, and was settled over a Presbyterian congregation in Kentucky. He was led in the process of God’s dealings with him to see his way clear out of the darkness of unbelief, before he saw clearly his duty in regard to his own conduct and practice toward his fellow-men. “I lived,” said he, “many years without having a suspicion that there was anything wrong in holding slaves. Even after I had an interest in Christ, there seemed to be nothing amiss in it, just as pious people went on making and selling rum. Oh, that I then had had some faithful Christian brethren to rouse me, then I should not have been left to have approached the table of our Lord, with my fingers all dripping with the blood of souls.”
Dr. Nelson tells us how he was converted to abolitionism. “My wife came to me one day and said that Sylvia, one of our servants, had told her we had no right to hold our fellow-beings in bondage; she had worked for us six years, and she thought that she had paid for herself.” To his wife as he said, “I gave some rough answers.” The word that first stings the conscience because it is true, will be parried as if it were a barbed spear. Again the remark of Sylvia came to his ears, that the Bible did not allow slave-holding. “Don’t mind her nonsense,” said the doctor to his wife. But Sylvia kept pelting her mistress with Bible declarations against slavery; and as she could not answer her slave, she came to her husband for instruction. The upshot of it was, that Sylvia made an abolitionist of the doctor’s wife, and the wife made an abolitionist of the doctor.
As one who would be an honest Christian he soon emancipated all his slaves but one. This one he kept for some years because he thought he was too stupid to take care of himself. This was the all-setting assertion that was called argument: “They are not capable of taking care of themselves.” The doctor admitted that it applied to only one of his. But he was led to question his own sincerity in this matter. “Do you not like,” said he to himself, “to have Sam black your boots, and catch your horse, and do many things for you which he does not for himself, and which he is not so stupid in doing but that he does it to your satisfaction?” Then he called Sam to him and said to him, “I give you your freedom, as I have done to the rest.” He met him a year after riding a pony, and asked him “How do you like freedom?” “O Massa!” said he, “the sweetest thing in the world. I have a hundred and fifty silver dollars stowed away in a box.”
Dr. Nelson was one of the early Kentucky Abolitionists. He was, as we intimated, a co-worker with Benjamin Lundy, aiding him in the support of his paper. He was also associated with Rev. John Rankin and Rev. James H. Dickey, father of Judge T. Lyle Dickey, who, forty years ago, was pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Union Grove in Putnam Co., Ills. It was a misfortune to the South that the slaveholders there would not permit such men to reside among them. Mr. Dickey, finding his relations in Kentucky uncomfortable, came to Illinois and settled in the lower part of the State over a congregation of Southern Abolitionists, many of whom had left the South to get free from slavery, and then came to Putnam Co. Stern and stalwart men these Southern antislavery men were, and they had much to do in shaping the antislavery sentiment of the North. Some of their most conscientious men, many of them men of talent and education, came into the Northern Western States and settled, some preaching, others lecturing and writing as well as voting, against slavery.
Dr. Nelson, in the early part of the period of agitation, removed to Southern Illinois, and then to Northern Missouri; having so strong a sympathy for the people of his native clime that he shrunk from leaving the South altogether. But he found his position even there, where the rigors of the slave system were somewhat relaxed, uncomfortable, and his influence circumscribed. To be known any where as entertaining sentiments hostile to slavery was to be stigmatized an Abolitionist, and that was a word, as Garrison said,
All covered o’er with shame.
And there in Northern Missouri, he was not permitted to preach, and was persecuted and driven from his home. For a time, among his own people, he, like his Saviour whom he closely followed, had not where to lay his head. Being pursued by the mob, he turned his steps toward what seemed to him the more hospitable shores of Illinois, though even here people were plotting for the death of Lovejoy. He came upon the “bottoms” of the Mississippi River in the darkness of night, hiding in the timber and the under-brush from his pursuers, opposite the town of Quincy. From his dark hiding place, with no friend to help him, and no means with which to cross the river, he saw the lights in the town of Quincy. The other side of the river seemed to him a “Shining Shore.”
This was the scene that suggested to him that beautiful hymn, that has become national, perhaps immortal. There on “Jordan’s strand,” then the dark and muddy Mississippi “Bottom,” the thoughts if not the lines of that hymn were suggested, while the shining shore of the place of his hopes and his refuge he “could almost discover.” At Quincy, he found an asylum when at last he was able to pass over. Near this city, just back upon the prairie, and overlooking the dark land from which he had been driven out, he connected himself with Rev. Moses Hunter, and aided him to found the once famous “Mission Institute” of Adams county. This was probably about 1836. At this Institute that three imprisoned Abolitionists, Burr, Work, and Thompson, were educated and prepared for their admission as criminals into the Missouri State prison; for, going over the Mississippi river to aid some slaves to escape from their masters, they were caught, tried, condemned, and sent to the prison for a long term of years. One after another they were pardoned, and Thompson, graduating in this State institution, went to Africa as a missionary. Such were some of the pupils of the good Dr. Nelson.
The slave-holders owed this Institute a terrible grudge, for it made Abolition missionaries. They attempted to pay the grudge by mobbing it several times, and finally burning it to the ground, and it is now no more.
Dr. Nelson was a sweet-spirited Christian, and a genuine philanthropist. When Mr. Lundy came to Illinois to print his Genius of Universal Emancipation, to succeed the martyred Lovejoy, in publishing the Abolition newspaper of the West, Dr. Nelson hailed him as an old friend and co-worker, and a brother Emancipationist from the South.
Dr. David Nelson died at Quincy, it is believed, about 1844. There is not so much known about his adventurous, somewhat eccentric, but eminently devoted life, as would be profitable for the world to know. It is a pity there is such a propensity to let the good of good men die, and their memory to die with them. Perhaps this sketch may awaken some new interest in this good man, whenever we sing the Shining Shore.—Z. East, in The Advance.