CHAPTER XIII. FIRST CAMP-MEETING ON THE PENINSULA, 1805.

The introduction of camp-meetings into the Peninsula formed a new era in Methodism in that section of country. Worshiping in the groves, God’s first temples, was a novelty, and called out the people by thousands. The ministers preached with unusual power, for crowds inspired them, and converts were multiplied as the drops of the morning. I attended all these meetings and kept a record of them.

Camp-meetings had their origin in Tennessee, in 1799. Two brothers, named Magee, one a Methodist the other a Presbyterian minister, had the high honor of originating them. With John Magee, the Methodist, I was acquainted for several years; I traveled with him many miles, and heard him in preach. He was the father-in-law of the Rev. Thomas L. Douglas.

Jesse Lee introduced camp-meetings into Virginia and Maryland, and then to Delaware. But the first camp-meeting in the East was held by the Rev. William Thatcher, in Carmel, New York, in 1804.

The meeting of which I now speak was the first held on the Peninsula, and the beginning of a series that were greatly honored of God and a blessing to thousands. It was held in a beautiful grove three miles south of Duck Creek Cross Roads, (now Smyrna,) and commenced on the 25th of July, 1805. There were multitudes of tents, and thousands came to the feast of tabernacles. Worshiping in nature’s magnificent temple, the preachers and the people got new inspiration.

A notice of the ministers who preached, and their texts, may seem dry to some, but by others the record will be read with interest, for all who preached on that ground at that camp-meeting have long since been in Paradise.

The opening sermon was by Jesse Lee, who had attended many camp-meetings. He was then in his palmy days, and was a host in himself. His text was Isaiah xxxiii, 12: “And the people shall be as the burnings of lime, as thorns shall they be burned in the fire.” This was a singular text. The sermon was terrific, showing the awful end of the wicked. Jesse Lee was occasionally a “son of thunder.” His texts were often novel, and therefore attracted attention.

John Chalmers, the old hero, preached in the afternoon from Numbers x, 1-9. If the reader will turn to it he will see it was a most ingenious text for a camp-meeting, and the sermon was equally ingenious. A minister’s skill and wisdom are exhibited as much in the selection of his texts as in expounding them. Adaptation is the great secret of success. John Chalmers knew as well as any other man how to adapt his subject to the occasion. In his text we read of “camps,” of “trumpets” that were blown, of the “assembly,” “congregation,” of “priests,” of “solemn days” and “days of gladness,” all reminding us of modern camp-meetings.

Joseph Totten preached in the evening from Hab. iii, 2, “O Lord, revive thy work.” My journal says: “This was a time of power to many souls; about twenty-two professed to find converting grace to-day.” Such was the first day’s work of the first camp-meeting held on the eastern shore of Maryland.

On Friday Thomas Ware preached at eight o’clock, from 1 John v, 4, on faith and its victories. The word was conveyed by the Spirit to the hearts of many. At three o’clock John Chalmers preached from John xiv, 12, on faith and works. James Aikins, at eight in the evening, from Matt. xi, 28, on the rest for those who labor and are heavy laden. The result of the second day was glorious: sixty were converted and a number sanctified. The meeting continued all night; some were crying for mercy, others praying, singing, shouting—there was indeed a shout of a king in the camp. We had a glorious time at sunrise.

On Saturday morning Jesse Lee preached at eight, from John xvi, 20, on weeping and lamentation being turned into joy. That was verily a time of weeping. Richard Lyon preached at three o’clock, from Isaiah i, 18: “Come and let us reason together.” William Bishop preached at night. About one hundred were converted during the day and last night. Wonderful are thy works, O Lord Almighty!

On Sunday, at eight o’clock, Alvard White preached, from Psalm cvii, 8, on praising the Lord for his wonderful works. Ephraim Chambers preached in the afternoon, and Richard Sneath in the evening. This was a high day in Zion. It was supposed there were more converted to-day than yesterday.

On Monday our camp-meeting closed, after a most affectionate parting. Jesse Lee says, concerning this meeting: “Thousands of people attended, and I suppose two hundred were converted among the white people, and many among the blacks. I think it exceeded anything that I ever saw for the conversion of souls, and for the quickening influences of the Holy Ghost upon the hearts of believers. I took an account of sixty-eight Methodist preachers who were at that meeting. The work went on beautifully and powerfully. It was said the noise occasioned by the cries of the distressed and the shouts of the saints was heard at the distance of three miles. From that meeting the work of the Lord spread greatly on the eastern shore, both in Maryland and Delaware states; and hundreds were converted and added to the society in the course of a few months after that meeting.” I make this long quotation because it confirms all I have said by one who was a prominent actor.

This camp-meeting was under the charge of William P. Chandler, who was a mighty leader of the “sacramental host,” and just the man to command such a wing of the Christian army. Of the sixty-eight preachers who were present I alone survive. William P. Chandler, who presided, has been dead forty-three years; Jesse Lee, forty-nine years; and John Chalmers, thirty years.

I went with Dr. Chandler to the camp-meeting in Accomac County, Va. We arrived there on Monday, August 26, and worked hard in clearing the ground and fixing the seats. We were entertained at Major Kerr’s, a man of wealth, who stood high in the community, and had built him a splendid mansion. He was one of Dr. Chandler’s spiritual children, and had recently joined the society. His conversion was quite singular. Brother Chandler preached in the neighborhood, and was entertained by the major, who had respect for the Gospel and its ministers, though he was then emphatically a man of the world. One day while walking with him in his fine parlor, and amid his splendid furniture, the doctor said, “Well, major, this mansion is too beautiful to leave behind you, and yet you will soon have to leave it and go to that narrow house appointed for all living.” It was a word “fitly spoken,” a “nail fastened in a sure place.” It led the major to reflection, which resulted in his conviction and conversion. The major identified himself with Methodism, and became very useful.

A great multitude attended this camp-meeting. The ministers preached with “the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven,” and the “arrows were very sharp in the hearts of the king’s enemies.” On Thursday sixty were converted, on Friday one hundred and fifty, on Saturday and Sunday over a hundred each day. It was the opinion of the preachers, and others who took pains to ascertain, that four hundred whites and over one hundred and fifty blacks were converted. The work went on day and night without intermission from Thursday till Monday. Besides Dr. Chandler there were present Henry White, Thomas Birch, James Ridgeway, and John Chalmers.

There was a skeptic at the meeting who made some disturbance. He was very fluent, and crowds gathered around him as he argued against the divinity of Jesus, and ridiculed his mysterious birth. At last John Chalmers encountered him, and he was just the man. He inquired of the skeptic, “Do you believe that God created the universe?” He answered, “I do.” “Do you believe God formed man out of the dust of the earth?” He said, “Yes.” Another question: “Do you believe that God formed the woman out of the man?” “Yes.” Then came the crowning question: “Do you think it more difficult for God to create a man out of a woman than a woman out of a man?” The question struck at the foundation of his skepticism. He was confounded; he trembled and wept, and in a little while was on his knees at the mourners’ bench imploring pardon. And he found that the blood of the incarnate Jesus could wash all his guilty stains away. He became an ornament to the Church. Years afterward I saw him with a face that looked toward heaven, declaring, “I seek a better country.”

There has been some discussion in our periodicals as to the time when mourners were first invited to the altar for prayers, and with whom the custom originated. As this practice made a new era in the Church, and has been so highly honored of God, the question is one of interest.

Dr. Bangs, in his History of Methodism, vol. iii, p. 374, speaks of the revival in the city of New York in 1806, and says: “It was during this powerful revival the practice of inviting penitent sinners to the altar was first introduced. The honor of doing this, if I am rightly informed, belongs to Brother Aaron Hunt, who resorted to it to prevent the confusion arising from praying in different parts of the house.” This has been for years stereotyped, and is interwoven into history. The doctor expressed himself cautiously, for he said, “If I am rightly informed.” The truth is, he was not correctly informed. Aaron Hunt was no doubt the one who first introduced its practice in New York, but it existed previously in other places. The Rev. Henry Smith of Baltimore Conference wrote a letter to Dr. Bangs when he was editor of the Advocate asking that this error in his history might be corrected. In it he stated he had invited mourners to the altar as early as 1803, and adds, “It was not a solitary case or a new thing, but often practiced with success.”

I know the practice commenced much earlier than 1806. As early as 1799, when in company with that eminent revivalist, Rev. W. P. Chandler, on Cecil Circuit, at Back Creek, after preaching, the doctor invited mourners to the altar. Nearly a score came forward, and twelve men experienced the forgiveness of sins that day, and among them Lawrence Laurenson, who became one of the most popular and useful preachers in the Philadelphia Conference. That was the first time I ever saw or heard of mourners being invited to the altar.

During the revivals on the Peninsula in 1801, and the two following years, as well as at the camp-meeting in 1805, it was the invariable practice to invite mourners to come forward. The Rev. Richard Sneath, one of the best of ministers, with whom I fought side by side the battles of the Lord, has thrown light on this subject. In a letter to Dr. Coke, dated Milford, October 5, 1802, he says: “On January 25, 1801, at St. George’s, Philadelphia, after Mr. Cooper had been preaching, I invited all the mourners to come to the communion-table that we might pray particularly for them. This I found to be useful, as it removed that shame which often hinders souls from coming to Christ, and excited them to the exercise of faith. About thirty professed to be converted, and twenty-six joined the society.” Mr. Sneath says also: “In 1800 and 1801 I added on Milford Circuit upward of three thousand members.”⁠[10] So mightily grew the word of God and prevailed. The scenes were pentecostal. It is difficult to realize them now.