While giving entertainment to man and beast, if a Sunday came round, he
would further invite his guest, no matter what kind of faith the vessel
held, if it only held any faith, to ride with him through the woods and
preach to his brethren. This was the front of his offending. For since
he seemed brother to men of every creed, they charged that he was no
longer of THEIR faith (the only true one). They considered his case,
and notified him that it was their duty under God to expel him.
After the sermon one Sunday morning of summer the scene took place.
They had asked what he had to say, and silence had followed. Not far
from the church doors the bright Elkhorn (now nearly dry) swept past in
its stately shimmering flood. The rush of the water over the stopped
mill-wheel, that earliest woodland music of civilization, sounded loud
amid the suspense and the stillness.
He rose slowly from his seat on the bench in front of the pulpit--for
he was a deacon--and turned squarely at them; speechless just then, for
he was choking with rage.
"My brethren," he said at length slowly, for he would not speak until
he had himself under control, "I think we all remember what it is to be
persecuted for religion's sake. Long before we came together in
Spottsylvania County, Virginia, and organized ourselves into a church
and travelled as a church over the mountains into this wilderness,
worshipping by the way, we knew what it was to be persecuted. Some of
us were sent to jail for preaching the Gospel and kept there; we
preached to the people through the bars of our dungeons. Mobs were
collected outside to drown our voices; we preached the louder and some
jeered, but some felt sorry and began to serve God. They burned matches
and pods of red pepper to choke us; they hired strolls to beat drums
that we might not be heard for the din. Some of us knew what it was to
have live snakes thrown into our assemblages while at worship; or nests
of live hornets. Or to have a crowd rush into the church with farming
tools and whips and clubs. Or to see a gun levelled at one of us in the
pulpit, and to be dispersed with firearms. Harder than any of these
things to stand, we have known what it is to be slandered. But no
single man of us, thank God, ever stopped for these things or for
anything. Thirty years and more this lasted, until we and all such as
we found a friend in Patrick Henry. Now, we hear that by statute all
religious believers in Virginia have been made equal as respects the
rights and favors of the law.
"But you know it was partly to escape intolerable tyranny that we left
our mother country and travelled a path paved with suffering and lined
with death into this wilderness. For in this virgin land we thought we
should be free to worship God according to our consciences."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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