| CHAPTER II.
HOW I CAME TO ATTEND THE LATTER DAY SAINTS’ MEETINGS. One day father and mother were discussing some point of doctrine, when father mentioned the name of John J. Cornish as being a great preacher in the Saints’ church, and yet he could not read the Bible before the public. This attracted my attention, and from father I learned that this was the same “Johnnie” Cornish I had met years before. He had been brought from the back country to drive a horse for McGee’s factory, and would often permit me to ride with him. My curiosity was at once excited and I determined to hear “Jack” Cornish preach. I confess it was not to hear the gospel, or a desire to acquire knowledge that prompted me to go, but the thought of ignorant “Jack” Cornish preaching promised to be to me a treat more amusing than a “dime show.” Sunday night came and with a number of boys I went to the Latter Day Saints’ church. The building was crowded, and with difficulty we obtained seats. It was a plain, frame building, but everything was neat and clean. We had not been there a great while before an elderly man walked up to and took a seat behind the old-fashioned pulpit. He announced the 721st hymn in the Saints’ Harp. There was no instrument of music in the church, but as those honest, earnest, and happy [31] people raised their voices and .hearts to their God in the words of that hymn, I thought it was the sweetest singing I had ever heard. I shall never for get, while the tides of memory ebb and flow, the look of hope that seemed to be stamped upon every face as those words floated away on the evening air: “Yes, we trust the day is breaking, Joyful times are near at hand.” When the last note of the hymn had died away, the old man raised his hand toward heaven and said, “Let us all try to pray.” His words and accent mdicated that he was recently from across the sea, and was an unlearned man. But, dear reader, his words flowed from his heart, and as he poured forth his soul unto his Creator, the tears streaming down his face, I could not but feel the difference between that humble, heartfelt prayer and those which I had been accustomed to hear in my mother’s church, where the preacher with a gown on would read prayers out of a book. After prayer the old gentleman stated that his young .brother had requested him to read the first chapter of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. After reading the chapter, the old gentleman (whose name I learned subsequently was Elijah Sparks) introduced the speaker of the hour by saying, “Brother Johnnie Cornish will now speak to you. Come forward, Brother Johnnie.” The man referred to arose, walked into the pulpit, looked over the congregation and smiled. I thought: “What in the world does the fellow mean, to smile like that in the sacred desk.” [32] For I had been taught to believe that it was a sin to laugh or be merry on the Lord’s day; that religion consisted in going to church, reading prayers, singing hymns, being solemn on Sunday, and being prompt in paying pew rent and sustaining the ministerial fund; and now to see a Saint smile was a breach of ministerial dignity. But then I thought, “What can I expect from Jack Cornish?” for he it was that stood before us. He was about twenty-one years of age, tall and slim; his face was beardless, and he looked just like a big boy. When he began to talk, he acted more like a boy than a preacher. His text was taken from the eleventh and twelfth verses of the first chapter of the epistle of Paul to the Galatians: “But I certify you, brethren, that the gospel which is preached of me is not after man. For I neither received it of men, neither was I taught it, but by the revelation of Jesus Christ.” The preacher had not been speaking ten minutes before he had his hearers spellbound; “he spake as one having authority.” His voice was not a pleasant one, but it thrilled my very soul, and I was convinced that every word he spoke came from an honest heart. Great tears were streaming from his eyes, and soon I, too, was searching after my handkerchief to wipe the tears that were running down my cheeks. I felt ashamed of myself, but I soon discovered that I was not the only one in tears, for perhaps two thirds of the audience were thus affected. I shall not dwell any longer on that sermon, but [33] it is indelibly stamped upon my memory. Though I had no thought of ever becoming a Latter Day Saint, yet I thought I would come again and learn more about God and the Bible, for the sermon, though lasting nearly two hours, seemed short. That night I went from church, for the first time in my life interested in what a preacher had said. When I arrived home my father was anxious to know what I thought of the sermon, but I gave him little encouragement, for I endeavored to hide my feelings with reference to the latter-day work, and was quite successful for a time. As the weeks passed away, I found myself often in the Saints’ church. Much as my mother loved me, yet she begged of me at times not to go to hear the Saints preach, for “Madam Rumor” had informed her that the Saints were nothing but Salt Lake Mormons, and that it was only a question of time when they would all go to join the main church at Salt Lake. She thought that father and a few others were deceived, but that in the main the Saints were depraved. [34] |
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