Revival at Antwerp


I must now give some account of my labors and their results, at Antwerp, a village north of Evans' Mills. I arrived there the first time in April, and found that no religious services of any kind were held in that town. The land in the township belonged to a Mr. Parish, a rich landholder residing in Ogdensburgh. To encourage the settlement of the township he had built them a brick meetinghouse. But the people had no mind to keep up public worship; and therefore the meetinghouse was locked up, and the key was in the possession of a Mr. Copeland, who kept the village hotel.

I very soon learned that there was a Presbyterian church in that place, consisting of but few members. They had some years before tried to keep up a meeting at the village on Sabbath. But one of the elders who conducted their Sabbath meetings lived about five miles out of the village, and was obliged, in approaching the village, to pass through a Universalist settlement. The Universalists had broken up their village meeting by rendering it impossible for Deacon Randall, as they called him, to get through their village and get to meeting. They would even take off the wheels of his carriage; and finally they carried their opposition so far that he gave up attending meetings at the village; and all religious services at the village, or in the township so far as I could learn were relinquished altogether.

I found Mrs. Copeland, the landlady, a pious woman. There were two other pious women in the village: a Mrs. Howe, the wife of a merchant, and a Mrs. Randall, the wife of a physician in the village. It was on Friday, if I remember right, that I arrived there. I called on those pious women and asked them if they would like to have a meeting. They said that they would, but they did not know that it would be possible. Mrs. Howe agreed to open her parlor that evening for a meeting, if I could get anybody to attend. I went about and invited the people, and secured the attendance, I think, of some thirteen in her parlor. I preached to them, and then said that if I could get the use of the village schoolhouse, I would preach on Sabbath. I got the consent of the trustees, and on the next day an appointment was circulated around among the people, for a meeting at the schoolhouse on Sabbath morning.

In passing around the village I heard a vast amount of profanity. I thought I had never heard so much in any place that I had ever visited. It seemed as if the men in playing ball upon the green, and in every business place that I stepped into, were all cursing and swearing, and damning each other. I felt as if l had arrived upon the borders of hell. I had a kind of awful feeling, I recollect, as I passed around the village on Saturday. The very atmosphere seemed to me to be poison, and a kind of terror took possession of me. I gave myself to prayer on Saturday, and finally urged my petition till this answer came: "Be not afraid to speak, and hold not thy peace; for I am with thee, and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee. For I have much people in this city" Acts 18:9, I0. This completely relieved me of all fear. I found, however, that the Christian people there were really afraid that something serious might happen if religious meetings were established in that place again.

I spent Saturday very much in prayer, but passed around the village enough to see that the appointment that had been given out for preaching at the schoolhouse was making a considerable excitement. On Sabbath morning I arose and left my lodgings in the hotel; and in order to get alone, where I could let out my voice as well as my heart, I went up into a grove of woods at some distance from the village, and continued for a considerable time in prayer. However, I did not get relief, and went up a second time; but the load upon my mind increased, and I did not get relief. I went up a third time, and then the answer came. I found that it was time for meeting, and went immediately to the schoolhouse, found it packed to its utmost capacity. I had my little pocket Bible in my hand, and read to them this text: "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever believeth in Him might not perish but have everlasting life." I cannot remember much that I said, but I know that the point on which my mind principally labored, was the treatment which God received in return for His love. The subject affected my own mind very much, and I preached and poured out my soul and my tears together. I saw several of the men there from whom I had the day before heard the most awful profanity. I pointed them out in the meeting, and told what they said--how they called on God to damn each other. Indeed I let loose my whole heart upon them, and my tears flowed most copiously. I told them they seemed "to howl blasphemy about the streets like hell hounds"; and it seemed to me that I had arrived "on the very verge of hell." Everybody knew that what I said was true, and they quailed under it. They did not appear offended, but the people wept about as much as I did myself. I think there were scarcely any dry eyes in the house.

Mr. Copeland, the landlord, had refused to open the meetinghouse in the morning. But as soon as these first services closed, he arose and said to the people that he would open the meetinghouse in the afternoon. The people scattered and carried the information in every direction, and in the afternoon the meetinghouse was nearly as much packed as the schoolhouse had been in the morning. Everybody was out at meeting, and the Lord let me loose upon them in a wonderful manner. My preaching seemed to them to be something new. Indeed it seemed to myself as if I could rain hail and love upon them at the same time; or in other words, that I could rain upon them hail in love. It seemed as if my love to God, in view of the abuse which they heaped upon Him, sharpened up my mind to the most intense agony. I felt like rebuking them with all my heart, and yet with a compassion which they could not mistake. I never knew that they accused me of severity; although I think I never spoke with more severity, perhaps, in my life. But the labors of this day were effectual to the conviction of the great mass of the population. From that day, appoint a meeting when and where I would in that neighborhood anywhere round about, and the people would throng to hear.

The work immediately commenced and went forward with great power. I preached thrice in the village church on Sabbath, attended a prayer meeting at intermission, and generally preached somewhere in a schoolhouse in the neighborhood at 5 P.M. On the third Sabbath that I preached there an aged man came to me as I came out of the pulpit, and asked me if I would not go and preach in a schoolhouse in his neighborhood, saying that they had never had any services there. He told me that it was about three miles in a certain direction. He wished me to come as soon as I could. I appointed the next day, Monday, at five o'clock in the afternoon. It was a warm day. I left my horse at the village and thought I would walk down, so that I should have no trouble in calling along on the people in the neighborhood of the schoolhouse on my way. However, before I got to the place, having labored so hard on the Sabbath I found myself very much exhausted and sat down by the way and felt as if I could scarcely proceed. I blamed myself for not having taken my horse.

When I arrived at the appointed hour I found the schoolhouse full, and I could only get a standing place near the door, which stood open--and the windows were all open. I read a hymn--and I cannot call it singing, for they seemed never to have had any church music in that place. However, they pretended to sing. But it amounted to about this: each one bawled in his own way. My ears had been cultivated by teaching church music; and their horrible discord distressed me so much that at first I thought I must go out. I finally put both hands over my ears and held them with the full strength of my arms. But this did not shut out the discords. I held my head down over my knees, with my hands on my ears, and shook my head, and tried as far as possible to get rid of the horrible discords that seemed almost to make me mad. I stood it, however, until they were through; and then I cast myself down on my knees almost in a state of desperation, and began to pray. The Lord opened the windows of heaven and the Spirit of prayer was poured out, and I let my whole heart out in prayer.

I had taken no thought with regard to a text upon which to preach, but waited to see the congregation, as I was in the habit of doing in those days, before I selected a text. As soon as I had done praying, I arose from my knees and said: "Up, get ye out of this place; for the Lord will destroy this city." I said I did not recollect where that text was, but I told them very nearly where they would find it, and then went on to explain it. I said that there was such a man as Abraham, and also who he was; and that there was such a man as Lot, and who he was; their relations to each other; their separating from each other on account of differences between their herdsmen; and that Abraham took the hill country, and Lot settled in the vale of Sodom. I then told them how exceedingly wicked Sodom became, and what abominable practices they fell into. I told them that the Lord decided to destroy Sodom, and visited Abraham and informed him what He was about to do. That Abraham prayed to the Lord to spare Sodom if He found so many righteous there, and the Lord promised to do so for their sakes. That then Abraham besought Him to save it for a certain less number, and the Lord said He would spare it for their sakes. That he kept on reducing the number until he reduced the number of righteous persons to ten; and God promised him that if He found ten righteous persons in the city, He would spare it. Abraham made no farther request, and Jehovah left him. But it was found that there was but one righteous person there, and that was Lot, Abraham's nephew. "And the men said to Lot, Hast thou here any besides? Son-in-law, and thy sons, and thy daughters, and whatsoever thou hast in the city, bring them out of this place; for we will destroy this place, because the cry of them is waxen great before the face of the Lord; and the Lord hath sent us to destroy it. And Lot went out and spake unto his sons-in-law, which married his daughters, and said, Up, get you out of this place, for the Lord will destroy the city. But he seemed as one that mocked unto his sons-in-law" Gen. 19:12--I4.

While I was relating these facts I observed the people looked as if they were angry. Many of the men were in their shirt sleeves; and they looked at each other and at me, as if they were ready to pitch into me and chastise me for something on the spot. I saw their strange and unaccountable looks, and could not understand what I was saying that had offended them. However, it seemed to me that their anger arose higher and higher as I continued the narrative. As soon as I had finished the narrative I turned upon them and said, that I understood that they had never had a religious meeting in that place; and that therefore I had a right to take it for granted, and was compelled to take it for granted, that they were an ungodly people. I pressed that home upon them with more and more energy, with my heart full to bursting.

I had not spoken to them in this strain of direct application, I should think more than a quarter of an hour, when all at once an awful solemnity seemed to settle down upon them, and a something flashed over the congregation--a kind of shimmering, as if there was some agitation in the atmosphere itself. The congregation began to fall from their seats; and they fell in every direction, and cried for mercy. If I had had a sword in each hand, I could not have cut them off their seats as fast as they fell. Indeed nearly the whole congregation were either on their knees or prostrate, I should think, in less than two minutes from this first shock that fell upon them. Everyone prayed for himself, who was able to speak at all. I, of course was obliged to stop preaching, for they no longer paid any attention. I saw the old man who had invited me there to preach sitting about in the middle of the house, and looking around with utter amazement. I raised my voice almost to a scream to make him hear, and pointing to him said, "Can't you pray?" He instantly fell upon his knees, and with a stentorian voice poured himself out to God, but he did not at all get the attention of the people. I then spake as loud as I could, and tried to make them attend to me. I said to them, "You are not in hell yet; and now let me direct you to Christ." For a few moments I tried to hold forth the Gospel to them, but scarcely any of them paid any attention. My heart was so overflowing with joy at such a scene that I could hardly contain myself. A little way from where I stood was an open fireplace.

I recollect very well that my joy was so great, that I could not help laughing in a most spasmodic manner. I knelt down and stuck my head into that fireplace, and hung my pocket handkerchief over my head, lest they should see me laugh; for I was aware that they would not understand that it was irrepressible, holy joy that made me laugh. It was with much difficulty that I refrained from shouting, and giving glory to God.

As soon as I could sufficiently control my feelings I turned to a young man who was close to me, and was engaged in praying for himself, laid my hand on his shoulder, thus getting his attention, and preached in his ear Jesus. As soon as I got his attention to the cross of Christ he believed, was calm and quiet for a minute or two, and then broke out in praying for the others. I then turned to another and took the same course with him, with the same result--and then another, and another. In this way I kept on until I found the time had arrived when I must leave them, and go and fulfil an appointment in the village. I then told them so. I asked the old man who had invited me there to remain and take charge of the meeting while I went to another place. He did so. But there was too much interest, and too many wounded souls, to dismiss the meeting; and so it was held all night. In the morning there were still those there that could not get away, and they were carried to a private house in the neighborhood to make room for the school. In the afternoon they sent for me to come down there, as they could not yet break up the meeting.

When I went down the second time I got an explanation of the anger manifested by the congregation during the introduction of my first sermon there. I learned that the place was called Sodom--but I knew it not--and that there was but one pious man in the place, and him they called Lot. This was the old man that invited me there. The people supposed that I had chosen my subject, and preached to them in that manner, because they were so wicked as to be called Sodom. This was a striking coincidence, but so far as I was concerned, it was altogether accidental.

I have not been in that place for many years. A few years since I was laboring in Syracuse in the state of New York. Two gentlemen called upon me one day; one quite an elderly man, another perhaps a man of 47 years of age. The younger man introduced the older one to me as Deacon White, an elder in his church, saying that he had called on me to give a hundred dollars to Oberlin College. The older man in his turn introduced the younger, saying, "This is my minister, the Rev Mr. Cross. He was converted under your ministry." Whereupon Brother Cross said to me: Do you remember preaching at such a time in Antwerp, and in such a part of the town in a schoolhouse in the afternoon, and that such a scene--describing it--occurred there? I said, "I remember it very well, and can never forget it while I remember anything." "Well," said he, "I was then but a young man, and was converted in that meeting." He has been many years a successful minister. Several of his children have obtained their education in our college in Oberlin. As nearly as I can learn, although that revival came upon them so suddenly, and was of such a powerful type, the converts were sound and the work permanent and genuine. I never heard of any disastrous reaction as having taken place.

I have spoken of the Universalists having prevented Deacon Randall from attending religious meetings on Sabbath in the village of Antwerp by taking off the wheels of his carriage. When the revival got its full strength Deacon Randall wanted me to go and preach in that neighborhood. I appointed to preach there on the afternoon of a certain day, in their schoolhouse. When I arrived I found the schoolhouse filled, and Deacon Randall sitting near a window, by a stand with a Bible and hymn book on it. I sat down beside him, then arose and read a hymn, and they sung after a fashion--or rather bawled. I then engaged in prayer, and had great access to a throne of grace. I then arose and took this text: "Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell'?" I saw that Deacon Randall was very uneasy; and very soon he got up and went and stood in the door, it being warm weather. As there were some boys near the door, I supposed at the time that he had gone there for the sake of keeping the boys still. But I afterwards learned that it was through fear. He thought that if they pitched upon me, he would be where he could escape. From my text he concluded that I was going to deal very plainly with them; and he had been made quite nervous with the opposition which he had met with from them, and wanted to keep out of their reach. I proceeded to pour myself out upon them with all my might; and before I was through there was a complete upturning of the very foundations of Universalism, I think, in that place. It was a scene that almost equaled that of which I have spoken in Sodom. The revival penetrated to every part of the town, and some of the neighboring towns shared in the blessing. The revival was very precious in this place.

When we came to receive the converts, after a great number had been examined and the day approached for their admission, I found that several of them had been raised in Baptist families, and asked them if they would not prefer to be immersed. They said they had no choice, but their parents would prefer to have them immersed. I told them I had no objection to immersing them if they thought it would please their friends better, and themselves as well. Accordingly when Sabbath came I appointed to baptize by immersion during the intermission. We went down to a stream that runs through the place, and there I baptized by immersion, I should think a dozen or more. But do all I could I could not secure very much solemnity. I observed that the unconverted standing upon the shores laughed--and that it excited their merriment not a little, especially when I immersed the females.

When the hour for afternoon services arrived, we went to the meetinghouse, and there I baptized a great number of persons by taking water in my hand and applying it to the forehead. The administration of the ordinance in that place was so manifestly owned and blessed of God, as to do more to convince that that mode of baptism was acceptable to Him, than anything I could have said. Under the administration of that ordinance in the meetinghouse, the people were intensely solemn, and wept on every side. It seemed to have been a common remark, and to have struck almost everyone in that way, that God put His seal upon that mode of baptism. The contrast was so great between that scene and that which passed at the river, as to make a very decided impression. Among the converts was also a considerable number whose friends were Methodists.

On Saturday I learned that some Methodist people were saying to the converts, "Mr. Finney is a Presbyterian. He believes in the doctrine of election and predestination, but he has not preached it here. He dare not preach it, because if he should the converts would not join his church." This determined me to preach on the doctrine of election on Sabbath morning previously to their joining the church. I took my text, and went on to show, first, what the doctrine of election is not; secondly, what it is; thirdly, that it is a doctrine of the Bible; fourthly, that it is the doctrine of reason; fifthly, that to deny it is to deny the very attributes of God; sixthly, that it opposed no obstacle in the way of the salvation of the non-elect; seventhly, that all men might be saved if they would; and lastly, that it was the only hope that anybody would be saved, and concluded with remarks. The Lord made it exceedingly clear to my own mind, and so clear to the people that I believe it convinced the Methodists themselves. I never heard a word said against it, or a word of dissatisfaction with the argument. While I was preaching I observed a Methodist sister with whom I had become acquainted, and whom I regarded as an excellent Christian woman, weeping as she sat near the pulpit stairs. I feared that I was hurting her feelings. After dismissing the meeting she remained sitting and weeping, and I went to her and said to her, "Sister, I hope I have not injured your feelings." "No," said she, "you have not injured my feelings, Mr. Finney, but I have committed a sin. No longer ago than last night my husband, who is an impenitent man, was arguing this very question with me; and maintaining, as best he could, the doctrine of election." Said she, "I resisted it, and told him that it was not true. And now," said she, "today you have convinced me that it is true: and instead of forming any excuse for my husband, or anybody else, it is the only hope I can have that he will be saved, or anybody else." I heard no farther objection to the converts joining a church that believed in the doctrine of election.

There were a great many interesting cases of conversion in this place. But there were two very striking cases of instantaneous recovery from insanity during this revival. As I went into meeting in the afternoon of one Sabbath, I saw several ladies sitting in a pew with a lady dressed in black, who seemed to be in great distress of mind; and they were partly holding her and preventing her from going out. As I came in one of the ladies came to me and told me that she was an insane woman. That she had been a Methodist; had, as she supposed, fallen from grace; which had led to despair, and finally into insanity. Her husband was an intemperate man, and lived several miles from the village; and he had brought her down and left her at meeting, and had himself gone to the hotel. I said a few words to her; but she replied that she must go. That she could not hear any praying, or preaching, or singing. That hell was her portion, and she could not endure anything that made her think of heaven. I cautioned the ladies privately to keep her in her seat, if they could without her disturbing the meeting. I then went into the pulpit and read a hymn. As soon as they began to sing, she struggled hard to get out. But the ladies obstructed her passage, and kindly, but persistently resisted her escape. After a few moments she became quiet, but seemed to avoid hearing, or attending at all to the singing. I then prayed. For some little time I heard her struggling to get out; but before I had done she became quiet, and the congregation was still. The Lord gave me a great Spirit of prayer--and a text, for I had no text before settled upon in my mind.

I took my text from Hebrews: "Let us come boldly to a throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." My object was to encourage faith, in ourselves, and in her, and in ourselves for her. When I began to preach, she at first made quite an effort to get out. But the ladies kindly resisted, and she finally sat still, but held her head very low and seemed determined not to attend to what I said. But as I proceeded I observed that she began gradually to raise her head and to look at me from within her long black bonnet. She looked up more and more until she sat upright and looked me in the face with intense earnestness. As I proceeded to urge the people to be bold in their faith, to launch out and commit themselves with the utmost confidence to God through the atoning sacrifice of our great High Priest, all at once she startled the congregation by uttering a loud shriek, she then cast herself almost from her seat held her head very low and I could see that she "trembled very exceedingly." The ladies in the pew with her partly supported her and watched her with manifest prayerful interest and sympathy. As I proceeded she began to look up again and soon sat upright with face wonderfully changed, indicating triumphant joy and peace. There was such a halo upon her countenance as I have seldom seen in any human face. Her joy was so great that she could scarcely contain herself till meeting was over, and then she soon made everybody understand around her that she was set at liberty. She glorified God, and rejoiced with amazing triumph. About two years after I met with her, and found her still full of joy and triumph.

The other case of recovery from insanity, was that of a lady in the town, who had also fallen into despair and insanity. I was not present when she was restored, but was told that it was almost or quite instantaneous, by means of a baptism of the Holy Spirit. Revivals of religion are sometimes accused of making people mad. The fact is, men are naturally mad on the subject of religion, and revivals rather restore them than make them mad. During this revival we heard much of opposition to it from Gouverneur, a town about twelve miles, I believe, farther north. We heard that the wicked threatened to come down and mob us, and break up our meetings. However, of course, we paid no attention to that; and I mention it here only because I shall have occasion soon to notice a revival in that place. Having received the converts, and having labored in that place together with Evans' Mills, until the fall of the year, I sent and procured for them a young man by the name of Deming, whom they settled as pastor. I then suspended my labors at Antwerp.


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