Printed in the Review and Herald, January 9, 1936
During the last of May, 1856, about seven months after the office force had moved from Rochester to Battle Creek, there was a bustle of activity in the homes of the believers, for a call for a Conference had been made through the Review, together with a promise that the church in Battle Creek would "entertain all who come for the worship of God, according to their best ability." The invitation to this meeting was extended beyond the borders of Michigan, embracing "a full delegation from other States and from Canada."
In the White home, rooms were being cleaned, beds were being improvised, and plans were being made for stocking an ample supply of provisions, for on this occasion the house would be taxed to its utmost capacity.
An Example of Perseverance
About supper time, I, a youngster twenty-one months old, was having a happy time playing boat with a wooden pail which I was pushing about with a stick in a large tub of water that had been left sitting in the kitchen. Jennie Fraser, passing through the room to the back yard to gather up some chips for the fire, asked, "Willie, what are you doing."
A few minutes later she heard a gurgling sound, and hurried back to the kitchen, and there in the tub she saw one little foot sticking out of the water. Quickly she snatched me to her breast, apparently lifeless, and ran to find my mother, screaming, "He's drowned! He's drowned." Mother, from the front room, met her in the doorway, and seeing what had happened, said, "Jennie, was the water hot or cold."
The reply was, "He's drowned! He's drowned! He's dead! He's dead." Then mother seized her by the shoulder, and shaking her vigorously, said, "Jennie Fraser, tell me, was the water hot or cold."
She said, "Cold."
"Then give the child to me, and you send for the doctor, and call James."
John Foy happened to be nearby, and Jennie told him to run for the doctor. For the first two rods she followed him, slapping him on the back and shouting, "Run, run, run."
Mother took me to the front yard, cut off the wet clothes, and rolled me on the grass. Occasionally she would lift me into a sitting position, and look for signs of life. Then she would roll me again on the grass. She was surprised at the large quantity of water that poured from my nose and mouth.
Soon the neighbors gathered, and with deep interest watched mother's efforts to resuscitate the drowned baby boy. Ten minutes passed, and there was no sign of life; fifteen, and still there was nothing to give encouragement. Then the neighbors who had been watching her movements intently, decided that there was no hope, and they advised her to cease her efforts. One woman in particular said, "How dreadful to see her handling that dead child! someone take that dead child away from her."
But James White, who was standing by his wife, said, "No, it is Her child, and no one shall take it away from her."
At the end of twenty minutes she saw faint signs of life. As she held me to her breast and kissed me, she thought she saw a little flicker of an eyelid, and a little puckering of the lips, indicating an effort to respond to. her kiss. Encouraged by this, she took me into the house and laid me in my cradle, and instructing Jennie to heat thick cloths, she wrapped my cold body in these hot cloths, and changed them frequently. Soon regular breathing was restored.
At last the perseverance which characterized her lifework had conquered. And the sisters who had advised her to give up further effort to restore the dead child, were glad that she had not acted on their advice.
Regarding the experience of the following night, she wrote in the Signs of the Times, December 3, 1885:
"That night as my child that had been, as it were, raised to life, was lying upon my breast, and I was rejoicing in my heart that he was spared to me, though he was still in a very precarious condition, the bells rang out sharply, and a shrill cry was borne on the still night air, 'Lost! lost! A child lost!' Then I thought how the little one that God had given to me had almost been lost, of the vacant place that would have been left in the little wicker cradle at my bedside; and the word 'lost' came home to me with a force and meaning it had never possessed before.
"Never shall I forget the incidents of that night. It was just one little life that was at stake; but it seemed as though the whole city of Battle Creek was stirred to go out in search of the lost child. Lights were glimmering everywhere. They flashed through the streets, along the river bank, and through the adjacent woods, and the cry resounded, 'A child is lost! A child is lost!' After a long search, a shout was raised,'The child is found!'
"Yes, the child was found; but it might go astray on the journey of life, and be lost at last.
"I knew, too, that death might come to the little one that was saved to me; and that should he live, he would have the evils of this life to meet and to battle with. And the thought with me was, Will this little child, whose life I hold so dear, be finally lost, or will he be saved to praise God forever in His kingdom?
"There was no sleep for my eyes that night. I thought of the lost sheep that Jesus came from heaven to earth to seek and to save. I thought of Christ as He looked down from heaven upon a world of lost sinners, lost without hope, and of the sympathy that led Him to leave His high and exalted place upon His Father's throne, and make the infinite sacrifice necessary to lift man up from the degradation of sin, and bring him back to the fold of God."
Report of the Conference
The Conference began on Friday afternoon, May 23, 1855. A little before sundown a goodly number met in the "house of prayer," and welcomed the Sabbath with a lively social meeting. Sabbath morning, the meeting house was crowded, and it became apparent that a larger place of worship was needed. So the congregation adjourned to the large tent which had been pitched nearby, in a pleasant location. The Sabbath services, also those of Sunday, were devoted to spiritual topics, presented by Elders Bates, Waggoner, Byington, Hart, and White.
Following these two days of worship and consecration, Monday was devoted to business items. In the discussions regarding the tent operations, it was agreed that new fields were the most promising; but as the laborers with the tent would find it difficult to get their support from strangers, it was agreed that "there should be a spirit of sacrifice on the part of the church to sustain them." Such items are of interest, and indicated the need of organization and a systematic support of the workers.
Owing to ill health, Henry Lyon made request to be relieved from the responsibilities he had carried as a member of the publishing committee, and J. P. Kellogg was chosen to fill his place.
An advanced step was taken at this time in enlightening some of the foreign-speaking people. The need for literature among the German population was presented, and a committee was appointed to prepare a tract for distribution among the German people.
The Tuesday Morning Meeting
Many of the visitors left for their homes Monday afternoon and evening. For those who remained a farewell service was held Tuesday morning. Allusion to a most solemn vision given to Mrs. White at this time, is made in the following report by James White in the Review, in concluding his account of the Conference:
"The meeting has left a cheering and most blessed influence on the minds of those who attended it, especially those who remained over third-day, and witnessed the manifest power of God in correcting and comforting His people. With unity of feelings and new courage have preaching brethren gone forth to the field of labor, to fight the battles of the Lord, till victory shall be won."--Review and Herald, June 12, 1856.
One of those present at this morning meeting has written a statement descriptive of the occasion. She says:
"I was about seven years of age when this Conference was held, and being present with my parents at this early morning meeting, the unusual incident connected with this service left its lasting impression upon my young mind.
"When Mrs. White began to repeat the words, 'Lovely Jesus' at the close of her discourse, my attention and interest were aroused because of the peculiar expression on her face. Finally she turned to her right, looking up toward the ceiling.
"I well remember the smile and the joy that seemed to beam from her face while still repeating those words, 'Lovely, lovely Jesus.'
"Then her expression changed to a serious, anxious look, as her head slowly turned to the extreme left. It was then that Elder White got up and assisted her to a chair.
"She looked for a time in that direction in deep silence. Then her countenance seemed to express agony and fear, as she exclaimed, 'Oh, oh, how terrible!' throwing up her hands as if to shut out the sight presented. Before the service closed, she described the scene of contrast shown her.
"In the first view, she said, the angel presented the 'earth made new' in all its grandeur and loveliness, which was to be the home of the servants of God.
"In the second view she was shown the pouring out of the 'seven last plagues' upon the earth. The suffering and agony were too terrible to describe. ...
"For years afterward, that incident was often referred to in our family, which has kept alive the memory of these details as I have stated here."--Evelyn Lewis Reavis, in a letter to W. G. White. Dec. 1, 1921.
In this vision Mrs. White was shown the distinction between the road that leads to eternal life, and the one that leads to eternal death, "also the distinction between the companies traveling them." Most solemn and impressive was the revelation that there were "many traveling in this broad road who had the words written upon them, 'Dead to the world. The end of all things is at hand. Be ye also ready.'" Yet, save for a shade of sadness upon their countenance, "they looked just like all the vain ones around them." With great satisfaction they would point to the letters on their garments, "calling for the others to have the same upon theirs."
The decline in spirituality among the believers was set forth. Mrs. White was "pointed back to the years 1843 and 1844. There was a spirit of consecration then that there is not now."
As she saw the decline in spirituality as contrasted with that manifest in 1843 and 1844, she was led to exclaim:
"What has come over the professed peculiar people of God? I saw the conformity, to the world, the unwillingness to suffer for the truth's sake. I saw a great lack of submission to the will of God."--"Testimonies," Vol. I, p. 128.
As a parallel to backsliding among Sabbath-keepers, she was shown the murmurings and complainings of the children of Israel after their marvelous deliverance from Egypt. Of this she says:
"I saw that many who profess to believe the truth for these last days, think it strange that the children of Israel murmured as they journeyed; that after the wonderful dealings of God with them, they should be so ungrateful as to forget what He had done for them. Said the angel, 'Ye have done worse than they.'"--Id., p. 129.
With pathetic earnestness a divine appeal was made to God's people to "arise, and renew their strength in God by renewing and keeping their covenant with Him."
A few weeks later, this vision was written out and ready for general circulation. In announcing the appearance of "Testimony for the Church," No. 2, she said:
"I send out a quantity of this little tract of sixteen pages, postpaid. It is free for all. Those who esteem it a pleasure can assist in the publication of such matter."--Review and Herald, Aug. 21, 1856.
Originally this vision was printed as one article. Later in preparing it for the bound volumes, it was divided into the chapters, "The Two Ways," "Conformity to the World," and "Wives of Ministers," and may be found in "Testimonies for the Church," Volume I, pages 127 to 140.
Death of a Faithful Friend
Two days after the close of the Conference, Clarissa Bonfoey, who had so faithfully stood by the family for nearly eight years, was suddenly taken ill. A malignant growth had burst internally, and she passed away the following day, just as the Sabbath hours were nearing. She had been tried and found a trustworthy friend. James and Ellen White had left little Henry with her in Middletown, Connecticut, when they attended the first Conference in New York in 1848. A year later, when she inherited some furniture from her parents, she cheerfully furnished the home and lived with James and Ellen White in the Belden home. From that time she had been a valued member of the family, and her loss was keenly felt.