At her other concerts in New York the programs did not differ much in quality from the first, but in the later concerts Jenny Lind sang sacred music, and in these oratorios she was very popular. In his _Reminiscences_, written many years after the event, Lyman Abbott wrote: “It was impossible to doubt the Resurrection while she was singing ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth.’ She seemed a celestial witness; to doubt her testimony was to doubt her veracity.” And Jenny Lind surely would not have lied about such a thing as the Resurrection. Dr. Abbott knew a chorus girl in the oratorio choir, and when Jenny Lind sang “The Messiah” he escorted his friend to the concert. Probably Lyman Abbott as a young man enjoyed a much higher spiritual reaction than most of his contemporaries, for it is hard to believe that Jenny Lind impressed the general population as a celestial witness of the Resurrection under the exclusive management of P. T. Barnum. Another critic, however, said that her rendition of “I know that my Redeemer liveth” was “an appeal to shake the heart of a Jew.” Other members of the Jenny Lind audiences were impressed differently. Walt Whitman wrote in the _New York Evening Post_ of August 14, 1851, in one of his _Letters from Paumanok_: “The Swedish Swan, with all her blandishments, never touched my heart in the least. I wondered at so much vocal dexterity; and indeed they were all very pretty, those leaps and double somersets. But even in the grandest religious airs, genuine masterpieces as they are, of the German composers, executed by this strangely overpraised woman in perfect scientific style, let critics say what they like, it was a failure; for there was a vacuum in the head of the performance. Beauty pervaded it no doubt, and that of a high order. It was the beauty of Adam before God breathed into his nostrils.” And in speaking of Jenny Lind later in his _Good-Bye My Fancy_, Whitman said: “... the canary, and several other sweet birds are wondrous fine--but there is something in song that goes deeper--isn’t there?” Washington Irving, who was an old man when Jenny Lind came to New York in 1850, overcame his reluctance to combat with the crowds and finally heard her sing; he wrote to Miss Mary M. Hamilton: “I have seen and heard her but once, but have at once enrolled myself among her admirers. I cannot say, however, how much of my admiration goes to her singing, how much to herself. As a singer, she appears to me of the very first order; as a specimen of womankind, a little more. She is enough of herself to counterbalance all the evil that the world is threatened with by the great convention of women. So God save Jenny Lind!”