In Defense of Finney

 Finney Opposes Emotionalism

(Part 2)

 

Charles Finney understood the nature of men to have emotions, but he also saw that excessive emotion combined with religion creates a bad end product. As One in charge or leading large groups into Spiritual Conversion, Finney exercised exceptional caution, and did his best to keep emotions in check, so that they did not impede the work of the Holy Spirit in the work of Salvation.

 

Although, many misinformed people have falsely accused Finney of being an preacher that stirs up his audience with emotionalism, I think you can be the judge for yourself on that matter, by reading Finney’s own first hand account on this topic. Note: These are only the tip of the iceberg, you will be reading plenty more if you dive into reading his Memoirs in full. Which I highly recommend that you do. You can download your own copy free of charge, Here:   and Here:  or just read it online Here : and Here:

 

These Excerpts From: Memoirs of Finney Study Manual.pdf   Prove beyond DOUBT that Finney strongly opposed allowingng or using hyper emotionalism to sell religion. Eye witness testimony repeatedly tells the opposite story.

Color Legend:

  • Climax or Presence of Deep Emotion: When people were feeling or experiencing:
    • Stress from Emotionaly disconnected False Doctrines–from false teachers.
    • Opposition Towards God
    • Visible emotions,
    • Deep convictions,
    • The Presence of God
    • or the Work of the Spirit
      .
  • Charles Finney’s Response: How Did Finney Prepare for and then Respond to Emotional Situatations?

 

Below, Are just a few examples of how, why, and where: Finney Opposes Emotionalism.

 

Excerpt 1: from CHAPTER VI:

Revival at Evans’ Mills & Antwerp

 

Here is how Finney Prepared His Ministry: 
laying a foundation that was not emotional,
but based on the Truth of the Gospel,
and doctrines provided: to c
onvert lost souls to saved saints.

 

“The doctrines preached were those which I have always preached as the Gospel of Christ.

I insisted upon:

  • the voluntary total moral depravity of the unregenerate, and
  • the unalterable necessity of a radical change of heart by the Holy Ghost, and
  • by means of the truth.

I laid great stress upon:

  1. Prayer as an indispensable condition of promoting the Revival.
  2. The Atonement of Jesus Christ,
  3. His divinity,
  4. His divine mission,
  5. His perfect life,
  6. His vicarious death, [acting for another: a vicarious atonement.]
  7. His resurrection,
  8. Repentance,
  9. Faith,
  10. Justification by Faith,

… and all the kindred doctrines were discussed as thoroughly as l was able, and pressed home, and were manifestly made efficacious by the power of the Holy Ghost.

The means used were simply:

  1. preaching,
  2. prayer and
  3. conference meetings,
  4. much private prayer,
  5. much personal conversation, and
  6. meetings for the instruction of earnest inquirers.
  7. These and no other means, were used for the promotion of that work.

 

[Later on in his ministry: Finney used the mercey seat, or the anxious seat, allowing souls under conviction to come forward, during the preaching meetings, and be prayed over, during the service, that was entirely voluntary. In some later places they divided the men’s enquiry meetings from the women’s enquiry meetings, after services so that more specific and confidential issues could be safely shared. Men ministering to men, and women to women.] 

[Now you will Note: How Finney Opposed Emotionalism in the Work of Revival]

 

There was no appearance of fanaticism: no bad spirit, no divisions, no heresies, no schisms. Neither at that time, nor certainly so long as I was acquainted at that place, was there any result of that Revival to be lamented, nor any feature of it that was of questionable validity.

I have spoken of cases of intensified opposition to this Revival. One circumstance I found had prepared the people for this opposition, and had greatly embittered it. I found that region of country, what in the western phrase would be called, “a burnt district.” There had been a few years previous a wild excitement passing through that region, which they called a Revival of religion, but which turned out to be spurious. The preaching, as I understood, had been by the Methodist brethren. I can give no account of it except what I heard from Christian people and others. It was reported as having been a very extravagant excitement, and resulted in a reaction so extensive and profound, as to leave the impression on many minds that religion was a mere delusion. A great many men seemed to be settled in that conviction. Taking what they had seen as a specimen of a Revival of religion, they felt justified in opposing anything looking toward the promoting of a Revival of religion. 

 

I found that it had left among Christian people some practices that were offensive, and calculated rather to excite ridicule than any serious conviction of the truth of religion.

For example, in all their prayer meetings:

I found a custom prevailing like this: Every professor of religion felt it a duty to testify for Christ. They must “take up their cross,” and say something in meetings. One would arise and say in substance: “I have a duty to perform which no one can perform for me. I arise to testify that religion is good; though I must confess that I do not enjoy it at present. I have nothing in particular to say, only to bear my testimony–and I hope you will pray for me.”

This concluded, the individual would sit down, and another would rise and say about to the same effect. “Religion is good–I do not enjoy it. I have nothing else to say, but I must do my duty. I hope you will all pray for me.” Thus the time would be occupied, and the meeting would pass off with very little more that was interesting than such remarks as these. Of course the ungodly would make sport of this. It was in fact ridiculous and repulsive. But so was the impression riveted in the public mind that this was the way to hold a prayer and conference meeting, and that it was the duty of every professor of religion whenever an opportunity was given to give such testimony for God, that:

I was obliged, for the purpose of getting rid of it, to hold no such meetings. I appointed every meeting, consequently, for preaching. When we were assembled, I would begin by singing, and then pray myself. I would then call on one or two others to pray, naming them [who actually had a real ability to pray, {my thought inserted–TD}]. Then I would name a text and talk for a while. And then when I saw that an impression was made, I would stop and ask one or two to pray that the Lord might fasten that on their minds. I would then proceed with my talk, and after a little stop again and ask some one or two to pray. And thus I would proceed through the meeting, not throwing the meeting open at all for remarks on the part of the brethren and sisters [thus avoiding the negative past habits to corrupt the meeting]. Then they would go away without being in bondage, feeling that they had neglected their duty in not bearing testimony for God. Thus most of our prayer meetings were not so in name. Appointing them for preaching, it was not expected that they would be thrown open for every one to speak; and in this way I was enabled to overcome that silly method of holding meetings that created so much repellence and mirth on the part of the ungodly. After the Revival took thorough hold in this place, and those things occurred that I have named, opposition [to the current Revival] ceased so far as I could learn, entirely.”

 

Excerpt 2: from CHAPTER X:

Revival at Gouverneur

 

“There was a merchant living in the village by the name of Hervey D. Smith. He was a very amiable man, and a gentleman, but a deist. His wife was the daughter of a Presbyterian minister. She was his second wife, and his first had also been the daughter of an Old School Presbyterian minister. He had thus married into two ministers’ families. His fathers-in-law had taken the greatest pains to secure his conversion to Christ. He was a reading, reflecting man. Both of his fathers-in-law were Old School Presbyterians, and had put into his hands the class of books that taught their peculiar views. This had greatly stumbled him, and the more he had read the more was he fixed in his convictions that the Bible was a fable. His wife, Mrs. Smith, urgently entreated me to come and see and converse with her husband. She informed me of his views, and of the pains that had been taken to lead him to embrace the Christian religion. But she said he was so firmly settled in his views, she did not know that any conversation could meet the case. Nevertheless, I promised her that I would call and see him. I did so.

His store was in the front part of the building in which they resided. She went into the store and requested him to come in. He declined. He said it would do no good. That he had talked with ministers enough. That he knew just what I would say beforehand, and he could not spend the time; beside, it was very repulsive to his feelings. She replied to him, “Mr. Smith, you have never been in the habit of treating ministers who called to see you in this way. I have invited Mr. Finney to call and see you to have a conversation on the subject of religion, and I shall be greatly grieved and mortified if you decline to see him.” He loved and greatly respected his wife, and she was indeed a gem of a woman. To oblige her, he consented to come in. Mrs. Smith introduced me to him, and left the room. I then said to him: “Mr. Smith, I have not come in here to have a dispute with you at all; but if you are willing to converse, it is possible that I may suggest something that may help you over some of your difficulties in regard to the Christian religion, as I probably have felt them all myself.”

 

As I addressed him in great kindness, he immediately seemed to feel at home with me, and sat down near me and said: “Now, Mr. Finney, there is no need of our having a long conversation on this point. We are both of us so familiar with the arguments pro and con, that I can state to you in a very few minutes just the objections to the Christian religion on which I rest, and which I find myself utterly unable to overcome. I suppose I know beforehand how you will answer them, and that the answer will be utterly unsatisfactory to me. But if you desire it I will state them.I begged him to do so; and he began, as nearly as I can recollect in this way: “You and I agree in believing in the existence of God.” “Yes.” “Well, we agree that He is infinitely wise, and good, and powerful.” “Yes.” “We agree that He has in our very creation given us certain irresistible convictions of right and wrong, of justice and injustice.” I said, “Yes.” “Well, we agree, then, that whatever contravenes our irresistible convictions of justice cannot be from God.” “Yes,” I said. “What according to our irresistible convictions is neither wise nor good, cannot be from God.” “Yes,” I said; “we agree in that.” “Well now,” said he, “the Bible teaches us that God has created us with a sinful nature, or that we come into existence totally sinful and incapable of any good; and this in accordance with certain preestablished laws of which God is the author. That notwithstanding this sinful nature that is utterly incapable of any good, God commands us to obey Him and to be good, when to do so is utterly impossible to us; and He commands this on pain of eternal death.” I replied, “Mr. Smith, have you got a Bible? Will you not turn to the passage that teaches this?” “Why, there is no need of that,” he says: “you admit that the Bible teaches it.” “No, I do not,” I said, “believe any such thing.” “Then,” he continued, “the Bible teaches that God has imputed Adam’s sin to all his posterity–that we inherit the guilt of that sin by nature, and are exposed to eternal damnation for the guilt of Adam’s sin. Now,” said he, “I do not care who says it, or what book teaches such a thing, I know that such teaching cannot be from God. This is a direct contradiction of my irresistible convictions of right and justice.” “Yes,” I replied, “and so it is directly in contradiction of my own [beliefs as well]. But now,” said I, “where is this taught in the Bible?”

 

He began to quote the catechism, as he had done before. “But,” I replied, “that is catechism; that is not Bible.” “Why,” said he, “you are a Presbyterian minister, aren’t you? I thought the catechism was good authority for you.” “No,” I said “we are talking about the Bible now–whether the Bible is true. Can you say that this is the doctrine of the Bible?” Oh, he said, if I was going to deny that it was taught in the Bible, why that was taking such ground as he never knew a Presbyterian minister to take. He then proceeded to say that the Bible commanded men to repent, but at the same time taught them that they could not repent: commanded them to obey and believe, and yet at the same time taught them that this was impossible.

 

I, of course, closed with him again, and asked him, ‘Where these things were taught in the Bible?’ He quoted catechism, but I would not receive it. ‘The Bible taught also,’ he went on to say, ‘that Christ died only for the elect; and yet it commanded all men everywhere, whether elect or non-elect, to believe on pain of eternal death.’ “The fact is,” said he, “the Bible in its commands and teachings contravenes my innate sense of justice at every step. I cannot, I will not receive it!

He became very positive and warm. But I said to him: “Mr. Smith, there is a mistake in this. These are not the teachings of the Bible. They are the traditions of men rather than the teachings of the Bible.” “Well then,” said he, “Mr. Finney, do tell me what you do believe!” This he said with a considerable degree of impatience. I said to him, “If you will give me a hearing for a few moments, I will tell you what I do believe.”

 

I then began and told him what my views of both law and Gospel were, in short order. He was intelligent enough to understand me easily and quickly. In the course of an hour, I should think, I took him over the whole ground of his objections. He became intensely interested, and l saw that the views that I was presenting were new to him. When I came to dwell upon the Atonement, and showed that it was made for all men–dwelt upon its nature, its design, its extent, and the freeness of salvation through Christ–I saw his feelings rise till at last he put both hands over his face, threw his head forward upon his knees, and trembled all over with emotion. I saw that the blood rushed to his head, and that the tears began to flow freely. I got quickly up and left the room without saying another word. I saw that an arrow had transfixed him, and I expected him to be converted immediately. It turned out that he was converted before he left the room.

Excerpt 3: from CHAPTER XV: 

Revival at Auburn in 1826

 

I recollect that one Sabbath morning while I was preaching, I was describing the manner in which some men would oppose their families, and if possible prevent them from being converted. I gave so vivid a description of a case of this kind that I said, “Probably if I were acquainted with you, I could call some of you by name who treat your families in this manner.” At this instant a gentleman cried out in the congregation, “Name me!” and then threw his head forward on the seat before him, and it was plain that he trembled with great emotion. It turned out that he was treating his family in this manner, and that morning had done the same things that I had named without being acquainted with any of the facts. He said his crying out, “Name me!,” was so spontaneous and irresistible that he could not help it. But I fear he was never converted to Christ.

There was a hatter by the name of Hawley residing at this time in Auburn. His wife was a Christian woman, but he was a Universalist, and an opposer of the Revival. He carried his opposition so far as to forbid his wife from attending our meetings, and for several successive evenings she remained at home. One night as the warning bell rang for the meeting half an hour before the assembly met, Mrs. Hawley was so much exercised in mind about her husband that she retired for prayer, and spent the half hour in pouring out her soul to God. She told Him how her husband behaved, and that he would not let her attend meeting, etc., and drew very near to God. As the bell was tolling for the people to assemble, she came out of her closet, as I learned, and found that her husband had come in from the shop, and as she entered the sitting room, he asked her if she would not go to meeting, and said that if she would go he would accompany her. He afterwards informed me that he had made up his mind to attend meeting that night to see if he could not get something to justify his opposition to his wife, or at least get something to laugh about and sustain him in ridiculing the whole work. When he proposed to accompany his wife she was very much surprised, but prepared herself, and they came to meeting. Of all this I knew nothing at the time of course. But I went to meeting, as was common with me in those days, without having made up my mind at all as to the text from which I should preach.

I had been visiting and laboring with inquirers the whole day, and had had no time whatever to arrange my thoughts, or even settle upon a text. During the introductory services a text occurred to my mind, just before I was to rise and preach. It was the words of the man with the unclean spirit, who cried out: “Let Us Alone!” [Mark 1:21-27]  I took those words and went on to preach, and endeavored to show up the conduct of those sinners that wanted to be let alone, that did not want to have anything to do with Christ. The Lord gave me power to give a very vivid description of the course that class of men were pursuing. In the midst of my discourse I observed a person fall from his seat near the broad aisle, who cried out in a most unearthly and terrific manner. The congregation were very much shocked and the outcry of the man was so great that I stopped preaching and stood still.

After a few moments I requested the congregation to sit still, and I would go down and speak with the man. I found it to be this Mr. Hawley of whom I have been speaking. The Spirit of the Lord had so powerfully convicted him that he was unable to sit on his seat. When I got to him he had so far recovered his strength as to be on his knees with his head on his wife’s lap. He was weeping aloud like a child, confessing his sins, and accusing himself in a terrible manner. I said a few words to him, to which he seemed to pay but little attention. The Spirit of God had got his attention so thoroughly that I soon desisted from all efforts to make him attend to what I said. When I told the congregation who it was they all knew him and his character, and it produced tears and sobs in every part of the house. I stood for some little time to see if he would be quiet enough for me to go on with my sermon, but his loud weeping rendered it impossible. I can never forget the appearance of his wife as she sat and held his face in her hands upon her lap. There were in her face a holy joy and triumph that words cannot express. We had several prayers, and then I dismissed the meeting. They helped Mr. Hawley to his house. He immediately wished them to send for certain of his companions, with whom he had been in the habit of ridiculing the work of the Lord in that place. He could not rest until he had sent for a great number of them and had an opportunity to make confession to them, which he did with a very broken heart. He was so overcome that for two or three days he could not get about town, and continued to send for such men as he wished to see that he might confess to them, and warn them to flee from the wrath to come. As soon as he was able to get about he took hold of the work with the utmost humility and simplicity of character, but with great earnestness. Soon after he was made an elder, or deacon, I do not recollect which, and he has ever since been a very exemplary and useful Christian. His conversion was so marked and so powerful, and the results were so manifest to everybody, that it did very much to silence opposition.

 

 

 

Excerpt 4: from CHAPTER XXII: 

Another Revival at Auburn, New York

 

A case, which I this moment recollect, will illustrate the manner in which the members would work. The firm of Naylor and Co., who were at that time the great cutlery manufacturers in Sheffield, England, had a house in New York, and a partner by the name of Hutchinson. Mr. Hutchinson was a worldly man, had travelled a great deal, and had resided in several of the principal cities of Europe. One of the clerks of that establishment had come to our meetings and been converted, and felt very anxious for the conversion of Mr. Hutchinson. The young man for some time hesitated about asking him to attend our meetings, but he finally ventured to do so; and in compliance with his earnest entreaty Mr. Hutchinson came one evening to meeting. As it happened he sat on the opposite side of the broad aisle over against where Mr. Tappan sat. Mr. Tappan saw that during the sermon he manifested a good deal of emotion, and seemed so uneasy that several times he seemed on the point of going out. Mr. Hutchinson afterwards acknowledged to me that he was several times on the point of leaving, because he was so affected by the sermon. However he remained till the blessing was pronounced. Mr. Tappan kept his eye upon him, and as soon as the blessing was pronounced crowded across the aisle, and introduced himself as being Mr. Tappan, a partner of Arthur Tappan and Co., a firm well-known to everybody then in New York. I have heard Mr. Hutchinson himself relate the facts with great emotion. He said that Mr. Tappan stepped up to him and took him gently by the button of his coat, and spoke very kindly to him, and asked him if he would not remain for prayer and conversation. He tried to excuse himself and to get away; but Mr. Tappan was so gentlemanly and so kind, that he could not well get away from him. He was importunate, and as Mr. Hutchinson expressed it, “he held fast at my button, so that,” said he, “an ounce weight at my button was the means of saving my soul.” The people retired, and Mr. Hutchinson, among others, was persuaded to remain. According to our custom we had a thorough conversation, and Mr. Hutchinson was either then, or very soon after, hopefully converted.

 

Excerpt 5: from CHAPTER VIII:

Revival at Antwerp

 

[A meeting 3 miles walk from Antwerp.]

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 [Genesis 19: 1–29], 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 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.

 

 

Excerpt 6: from CHAPTER XIII: Revival at Rome

Wright’s Settlement, a village northeast of Rome (3 miles away)

 

I have spoken of Wright’s Settlement, a village northeast of Rome some two or three miles. The Revival took powerful effect there, and converted the great mass of the inhabitants. The means that were used at Rome were such as I had used before, and no others: preaching, public, social, and private prayer, exhortations and personal conversation. It is difficult to conceive so deep and universal a state of religious feeling with no instance of disorder, or tumult, or fanaticism, or anything that was objectionable, as was witnessed at Rome. There are many of the converts of that Revival scattered all through the land, living to this day; and they can testify that in those meetings the greatest order and solemnity prevailed, and the utmost pains were taken to guard against everything that was to be deplored. The Spirit’s work was so spontaneous, so powerful, and so overwhelming, as to render it necessary to exercise the greatest caution and wisdom in conducting all the meetings in order to prevent an undesirable outburst of feeling that soon would have exhausted the sensibility of the people and brought about a reaction. But no reaction followed, as everybody knows who is acquainted with the facts. They kept up a sunrise prayer meeting for several months, and I believe for more than a year afterwards, at all seasons of the year, that was very fully attended, and was as full of interest as perhaps a prayer meeting could well be. The moral state of the people was so greatly changed that Brother Gillett often remarked that it did not seem like the same place. Indeed, it had made a clean sweep. Whatever of sin was left was obliged to hide its head. No open immorality could be tolerated there for a moment. I have only given a very faint outline of what passed at Rome. To give a faithful description of all the moving incidents that were crowded into that Revival, would make a volume of itself.

 

 

 

 

 

Warning
Warning
Warning
Warning

Warning. Please fill out the form correctly.

 

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.