CONVERSION AND THEOLOGICAL PREPARATION.

Josiah Finney, the grandfather of Charles, was, (as the genealogical tables pretty surely indicate) the grandson of John Finney, second, who was born in Plymouth, Massachusetts, in 1638, and whose father (John), together with his mother and brother Robert, was among the early settlers of Plymouth. John Finney, second, the probable grandfather of Josiah and great-great-grandfather of Charles G., married in 1664 Mary Rogers, a granddaughter of Thomas Rogers, who came over in the Mayflower. Through his mother, Rebecca Rice, Charles was connected with a large and prominent family of that name appearing in the early records of New London and Norwich, Connecticut. Through his grandmother, Sarah Curtiss, he was probably descended in 1641 from Francis Curtiss of Plymouth, or perhaps from William Curtiss of Roxbury, Massachusetts, a brother of the wife of John Eliot. The Curtiss family was originally from Nasing, England. Thus it appears that, like so many other prominent men of later times, the subject of our biography was descended from some of the best families of the earliest New England emigration.

When Charles was about two years old, his parents, following the prevalent tide of emigration, removed to the wilderness of Central New York, and found a temporary resting-place for the family at Brothertown, Oneida County, but soon sought a permanent home in Hanover, now Kirkland, then a part Paris. Here they remained, amid the privations of pioneer life common to those days, until Charles was sixteen years old. It was the days of the stage-coach and post-horse. The Erie Canal with its marvelous transformations had not even been projected. The country was covered with a dense forest in which clearings were made by slow and painful effort. There were but few churches and fewer ministers; so that Finney in his boyhood heard very little preaching, and that mostly by uneducated and ignorant men, whose mistakes in grammar so impressed themselves upon his mind that they were the subjects of merriment to him to his dying day. Books likewise were few. Yet, true to the New England instincts, this most advanced wave of emigration bore with it the schoolhouse, and young Finney was a regular attendant upon the summer and winter district schools, taught by persons who had received creditable education in New England. About 1808 the family moved to Henderson, Jefferson County, on the shore of Lake Ontario, not far from Sackett's Harbor. Here for a portion of the time Charles was engaged in teaching a district school, but there was no improvement in his religious opportunities.

Quite naturally he was led in due time to go back for further education to his native town in Connecticut, where we find him in 1812, attending the high school, or academy, of the place. When he expressed a desire to take a college course, his teacher, though a graduate of Yale College, opposed the plan, assuring him that at the rate of progress he was making he could by private study pass over the whole curriculum in two years. While at Warren, Finney came under the influence of the stated ordinances of the church for the first time, and listened to the preaching of Rev. Peter Starr, who was pastor there from 1771 to 1822. But the regulation style of preaching in those days was not particularly attractive to the aspiring youth, and he seems to have been unfavorably impressed by it.

In pursuance of the advice of his teacher to content himself with going over the curriculum of the college course privately, Finney arranged to go South to teach and carry on his studies; but for two years taught school in New Jersey. Here there was no preaching, except in the German language, and, as that was unintelligible to him, he was again shut off from positive religious influences. After a four years' absence from home, he returned for a visit, intending still to complete his plan of further teaching and private study at the South. But in view of his mother's ill health, he was led to remain within reach of her, and so began the study of law in the office of Benjamin Wright, in the town of Adams, a few miles away; there in due time he was admitted to the bar, and entered upon the work of his profession.

The Presbyterian pastor in Adams was Rev. George W. Gale, a young man who had recently graduated from Princeton, and who was thoroughly imbued with the form of Calvinistic theology there taught. During this period, Finney for the first time lived within reach of a regular prayer-meeting, one being held in the church near his office. This he made it his practice to attend as often as business permitted. He was also the leader of the choir, and his influence over the young people was very marked, and, from all accounts, very prejudicial to the church; for he was a most unsparing critic of both the practice and the profession of its members. Mr. Gale had many private but apparently fruitless discussions with Finney respecting the truths of religion, but at last became so completely discouraged that, when some one proposed in church meeting to make Finney a subject of prayer, Mr. Gale remarked that it was of no use; that he did not believe that Finney would ever be converted, since he had already sinned against so much light that his heart was hopelessly hardened; adding, also, that the choir was so much under Finney's influence that it was doubtful if they could be converted while their leader remained in Adams.

Thus matters went on until the autumn of 1821, when Finney was twenty-nine years of age. Up to about this time he had not owned a copy of the Bible. But the frequent quotation of the Mosaic Institutes by his law authorities had led him recently to purchase one as a work of reference, and while thus using it he had become deeply interested in the volume. Under these combined influences he was becoming very restless, and was led to feel that he needed a great change in his inward state to prepare him for the happiness of heaven. According to his own account, also, he was much perplexed at this time by the apparent failure of the church to obtain answers to their prayers. Still, after a short struggle, he became fully convinced that the Bible was indeed the true Word of God,⁽¹⁾ and its solemn commands pressed upon his conscience with ever-increasing weight.

Finney's conversion belongs to the same class as that of the apostle Paul, in which the inward change of character is necessarily connected with a complete transformation of the outward conduct. The salient points of it can easily be given. Fully to interpret it, however, requires a consideration of his whole subsequent career. The difficulty of such an interpretation is also somewhat increased by the fact that, in the Memoirs written by himself, Finney has accompanied his narrative by numerous doctrinal disquisitions, in which those familiar with the controversies of the time readily detect the result of subsequent years of reflection interjecting their later theology in the narrative of early experience. While, however, it is extremely improbable that the theological system defended in his later life burst upon his mind at the outset in such complete form as his own narrative would imply, it cannot be doubted that the deep struggles of mind through which he was initiated into the Christian life exerted a marked influence not only upon all his subsequent practical labors for the conversion of men, but ultimately upon the formulation of his theological system. It is therefore important to detail at considerable length the events connected with and closely following his conversion.

The convictions of religious duty which had been slowly ripening in Finney's mind for two or three years culminated in a crisis of unusual violence. Being brought face to face with the question whether he was willing to surrender all his worldly plans and submit his will without reservation to Christ, he became more and more agitated, and, to suppress his rising emotion, resorted to the favorite device of avoiding his pastor and other religious people as much as possible. As a natural result, at the end of two or three days he became extremely nervous, and was depressed with the presentiment that he was soon to die, - which, in his present state of mind, he felt, would surely involve the eternal loss of his soul. In the midst of these forebodings he made various resolutions to serve God, and to make himself fit in character for the kingdom of heaven. But for some reason all these were ineffectual, and brought no peace to his mind.

From his own account it would seem that the primary reason for this darkness and depression of feeling was that his resolutions were superficial, and that he had not really humbled himself in the presence of God, but was seeking a righteousness of his own, based upon works, and not upon divine grace. The idea of trusting God for the forgiveness of his sins had not yet dawned upon his mind, or at any rate not with such clearness that he was brought to act upon the thought in the entire self-surrender of his soul. But at this point the gospel scheme of salvation, as a gift of God bestowed upon all believers through the atonement of Christ, came before him with great clearness. In Finney's own opinion, this vision of gospel truth was in a large degree the result of the direct operation of the Holy Spirit upon his mind. But probably he would not deny that in its essential elements the material of the truth had already filtered into his mind through natural agencies. The main facts of the gospel, though in unattractive form, had without doubt been brought within his survey by the faithful pastors in Warren and in Adams, and perhaps even by those unlettered itinerants to whom he had listened in earlier days; while. his own resistance to the manifold claims of duty had wrought up to the highest degree within him that sense of the need of divine grace which is the starting-point of all true religious faith. Upon these elements of truth the illuminating Spirit now descended, as in a lightning stroke, and helped him to see the broad and reasonable basis upon which the Christian rests his hope of life and immortality. In the busy street, and in the light of day, there came to him a vision of Christ, transfixing him to the spot where he stood, and arresting his whole train of worldly thought. For a considerable time he stood motionless where the vision met him, until at last he yielded to the summons, and resolved that he would accept Christ that day or "die in the attempt."

Still it would appear that he had not yet fully surrendered his pride and given up his self-righteousness; for the severest struggle of all was yet before him. Instead of making an immediate surrender to God, he had only resolved that he would surrender some time during the day. To carry out this purpose of the future, he turned his back upon his office, and sought the seclusion of a neighboring forest, which he had been accustomed to frequent for pleasure and recreation. Although people had often seen him wending his way toward this spot, so that there was really nothing in this to excite inquiry, he was now strangely impressed with the feeling that everybody was observing him, and that every one could divine the object of his movements. This thought so touched his pride that, to use his own words, he "skulked along under the fence," to keep out of sight, and when he reached the woods went to the farthest extremity of them, so as to avoid all possibility of being discovered. Here in a tangle of fallen trees, which was made to serve as a closet, he began the proposed operation of giving his heart to God.

Some will think it an instructive commentary upon his later views of regeneration, in which he holds that sinners are bound "to make to themselves new hearts," that now, at this crisis in his own experience, Finney was, for the time, unable to carry out the resolutions with which he entered the forest. When he opened his lips to pray, he found that he "had nothing to say to God." Even his heart, he says, refused to pray. Every rustling of the leaves attracted his attention, and startled him with the apprehension that somebody had found him out, and was coming to interrupt him.

If called upon, however, to explain the depressing experience, he would doubtless have said that the real difficulty at that time was that he had not completely humbled himself before God, and surrendered his will. When, a little later, this was really done, the darkness passed away. But an additional horror then came over him in view of the apparent fact that he had broken his promise to God, since he had promised to give Him his whole heart before he returned to his office. But he was still without feeling, and without the formation of any effective resolution. With overwhelming force, the apprehension was borne in upon his mind that he had perhaps committed the unpardonable sin.

All this was necessary to bring him down to the point of complete humility before God, and he came to see that the feelings which had prompted him to be so careful in avoiding the presence of his fellow-men arose from pride of heart, and that it was supremely wicked in him to be ashamed to confess before men his sense of sin and need, and he cried at the top of his voice that he would not leave the place in which he had prostrated himself, though all the men on earth and all the devils in hell should surround him. At this juncture, the passage of Scripture was suggested to him, which runs: "Then shall ye go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you. Then shall ye seek me and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart." Finney confidently thought that he had never read this passage. This is doubtless a mistake. But at any rate, at that supreme moment of spiritual agony, he recognized in these words the voice of God; and one of those visions of divine mercy which ever characterized his later life, and gave such effectiveness to his preaching, burst upon his soul in its resplendent glory. He found himself no longer trusting alone in the efficacy of his own resolution, but in the supreme mercy of a Heavenly Father. Under the impulse of this experience, his memory was so quickened that a long list of promises from the Bible came thronging in upon his mind, and, to use his own words, he "seized hold of them, appropriated them, and fastened upon them with the grasp of a drowning man."

His lips were now unsealed, and he continued some time in audible prayer. How long he was thus engaged, he was unable to tell. Nor could he recall the exact moment at which he rose from his knees and started to return to his office; but could only remember that, before he was fairly aware of it, he was on his feet with a light heart, and was "brushing through the leaves and bushes toward the open field." The real crisis in his experience is doubtless found in the sentence which involuntarily fell from his lips as he started on his return, "If I am ever converted, I will preach the gospel." The question whether or not he was converted did not at that time, however, arise for consideration.

On returning to the town, he found that the whole forenoon had passed away. But he had no appetite for dinner, and, instead of going to his boarding-house, went to his office, where in the quiet of the noontide hour he took down his bass viol, and began to play and sing some of the hymns with which in his impenitence he had so often led the worship of the congregation. Every note brought tears to his eyes. And, after making several ineffectual attempts to suppress his feelings, he put aside his music, and devoted himself during the afternoon to readjusting the books and furniture of the office, having little conversation with any of the various persons who came in.

In the evening he had the office to himself, and, after building a fire in the open fireplace, he retired to the back room to renew the devotions which in the earlier part of the day he had commenced at his familiar haunt in the forest. Here it seemed to him that he had a vision of the Lord, and that Christ met him face to face. So complete was the illusion, that it was some time before it was dispelled. It seemed to him, he says, that he saw Christ as he would see any other man, and that beneath his benignant gaze he was melted to tears, and he wept aloud like a child. On being aroused from this rapt vision, he returned to his seat by the fireplace in the main room of the office, and as he sat down by the fire he received what he describes as "a mighty baptism of the Holy Ghost." This was an experience for which he was not looking, and of which he did not remember ever to have heard before. It seemed to him as if there was a positive force like electricity entering and penetrating his whole system. He "wept aloud with joy and love," and, to use his own words, "literally bellowed out the unutterable gushings" of his heart. So overwhelming were these waves of feeling, that he cried out, "Lord, I cannot bear any more; I shall die if these continue."

This train of experiences was interrupted late in the evening by a visit from a member of the choir, who was alarmed at Finney's loud weeping, and supposed that he was suffering from pain, but was somewhat confused at Finney's reply that he was not in pain, but so happy that he could not live.

Notwithstanding this exalted experience and these transports of joy, Finney retired to his bed without definite assurance in his own mind that his sins had been forgiven, or that he had been fully accepted by God, and he passed a nearly sleepless night. But when he arose in the morning and the sun was pouring its clear rays into his room, these became to him an emblem of the brighter light that had arisen upon his soul, and there was a repetition of the scene of the previous evening. He wept aloud for joy, and in this second baptism received a gentle reproof for having doubted the readiness of God to have mercy upon him. He now saw that the sweet relief from condemnation, which had come to his mind at the supreme moment of decision upon the previous forenoon, was closely connected with the divine act of justification, and that the peace which he had since enjoyed was that which God had provided for sinners through the gracious sufferings of Christ. He felt that his sins were blotted out from God's book of remembrance, and that, by a divine act, his guilt had been removed.

From this time on, a single purpose dominated Finney's mind. He felt that God wanted him to preach the gospel, and that he must begin immediately. He had been retained to attend a suit that morning as attorney, but when his client came to remind him of the case, Finney said that he had enlisted in the cause of Christ, that he had a retainer from the Lord Jesus to plead his cause, and that some one else must attend to the suit. But instead of seeking another lawyer, the man, who was a deacon of the church, immediately settled his suit, and betook himself to prayer and more direct labor for the salvation of men. Finney went out at once from his office to converse upon religion with his friends and associates wherever he might meet them. During the day, he spoke with many persons, nearly every one of whom received lasting impressions, and entered at once upon an active Christian life. At evening, without appointment, the people gathered by general consent at the place where they usually met for prayer. The house was packed, but no one seemed ready to open the meeting. Without waiting to be called upon, Finney proceeded to tell them the story of his conversion. No sooner had he closed his narrative than Rev. Mr. Gale arose and confessed that he had sinned in limiting the power of God, and in discouraging the people from prayer. He, like many others that day, among them a prominent lawyer, had said, when the rumor of Finney's conversion became current, that it could not be true, that Finney was simply trying to see what he could make Christian people believe. But now all doubt was removed.

From this time on, daily meetings were held in the church for many weeks, and Finney devoted himself with such success to securing the conversion of the young people whose minds he had prejudiced against religion, that in a short time but one of their number was left unconverted. Soon after this he went to Henderson to visit his father and mother, neither of whom had heretofore made profession of religion. They were both converted, and a very powerful revival spread throughout the whole community, while, with Adams as a centre, similar awakenings occurred in nearly all the towns of the county.

During this period, Finney was in the habit while in Adams, of going to the meeting-house early in the morning for a protracted season of prayer. After a little he persuaded a considerable number of church members, together with the pastor, to join in these early morning devotions. Whenever they became remiss in attendance he would go around to their houses and wake them up, and remind them of their privilege and their duty. Nevertheless, attendance became less and less, until, upon one morning, only Mr. Gale was found at his side. At this time another vision, similar in many respects to that which marked his experience on the evening of the day of his conversion, broke in upon his soul, and prostrated him on the ground. He was overwhelmed with the thought that, while all nature was vocal with the praises of God, man, the object of heaven's supremest love, was unmoved and dumb. In connection with this thought a light seemed to surround him which was, he says, like the brightness of the sun in every direction. . . . I think," he goes on to say, "I knew something then, by actual experience, of the light which prostrated Paul on his way to Damascus. It was surely a light such as I could not have endured long." Upon this he broke out into loud weeping, much to the astonishment of Mr. Gale, who had seen no such light. But so deep were Finney's feelings, and so exalted his momentary conceptions of truth, that words did not seem adequate to their expression, and he made but brief reply to his pastor's inquiries as to the cause of his tumultuous feeling. He simply continued to weep until the vision passed away, when a great calm settled over his mind. This is related by Finney as a type of frequent experiences through which he passed in the years immediately following his conversion, - experiences so vivid and deep that he always shrank from relating them to others.

During these early months of his Christian life, Finney was in an almost constant attitude of devotion, and observed many days of private fasting and prayer, when he would sequester himself entirely from his fellows, and seek a closer communion with God. These days of fasting and prayer were not all of them equally profitable. He soon learned that his motives could not be purified, and his faith exalted, by mere self-examination. But rather he was brought into darkness by this process, and his feelings were made to subside. Only as he turned his thoughts towards Christ and his Work were his affections kindled and his pious resolutions strengthened. So deep was his longing after God that, if anything interrupted his sense of the divine presence, he found that it was impossible to rest, or to study, or to derive the least satisfaction from anything to which he was attending. At all times he was impelled by an overwhelming impulse of feeling to seek a reconciliation with God as an indispensable preparation for his daily work.

Such, in brief, is the account given by Finney of his conversion. One not familiar with his subsequent labors, and with the final outcome of his life, can scarcely refrain from trembling at the apparent hazard of the course upon which he was entering. To an unsympathetic observer, the liability to self-deception seems so great that the whole experience would be set down at the outset as of problematical value; and certainly, in view of the frailties of human nature, a career with such a beginning is invested with little less than tragic interest until the end is finally reached.

Though somewhat deficient at this time in the preparatory education of the schools, Finney was the possessor of many valuable qualifications which served an important purpose in his future career. Nature had endowed him with a fine physical frame, exceptional grace of movement, and a commanding appearance. He had a voice of rare clearness, compass, and flexibility, and he was passionately fond of music. In Warren, after a lapse of seventy-five years, the memory of his music classes is still fresh in the minds of some who enjoyed his instruction. In his own old age he was accustomed to enliven the gatherings at his house with solos, sung with pleasing effect to the accompaniment of the piano. As a speaker he was entirely without mannerism; his intonations and emphasis were perfect, and the hearer never felt, till near the close, that he was listening to a powerful sermon, but rather that he was being personally addressed with much earnestness upon matters that were of great mutual concern.

During the years of his pioneer life. Finney had also successfully secured the several manly acquirements needed to round out the well-developed character. He was an expert horseman. riding with grace and driving with skill. He was an accurate marksman, and hunting was a favorite diversion when he was long past his middle life. While living upon the shores of Lake Ontario he had become familiar with the management of sailing vessels, an experience which gave great pertinency and force to the illustrations from maritime life often introduced into his sermons. His taste for literature was also strongly marked and of a high order. Shakespeare was a favorite author, and even in his later years few amateurs could more successfully take a part in reading the plays of the great dramatist. Besides the limited education obtained during his four years' absence from home in Connecticut and New Jersey, he now had obtained that discipline of mind and that broad knowledge of general principles which preparation for the legal profession imparts.

About as much mystery hangs over the first year and a half of Finney's life subsequent to his conversion as that which shrouds the corresponding period of the apostle Paul's renewed life. In his memoirs, Finney speaks of visiting his parents, and of their conversion, and of a revival in their neighborhood, also of revivals in the outlying districts near Adams, as all occurring soon after. But what his relation to these revivals was, and what was his attitude meanwhile towards the Presbytery, cannot be ascertained. It was not till the 25th of June, 1823, that he was formally taken under care of the Presbytery with reference to entering the ministry.

On being advised by members of the Presbytery to attend Princeton Theological Seminary, he declined to do so, for the reason that he did not wish to be subjected to such influences as they had been under during their education. Such was the earnestness and sincerity of his spirit, however, that the Presbytery seemed to take no umbrage at his remark, but appointed his pastor, Rev. Mr. Gale, and Rev. Mr. Boardman to superintend his studies. From the first Finney's relation to both these advisers was frank as well as cordial, and of the most interesting character. But he was not inclined to accept some of the doctrines regarded as of great importance by Mr. Gale. Hence, according to his own representations, his studies consisted of little else than controversy, in which, as a natural result of his legal habits of reasoning, he was led to demand a kind and degree of proof for the various doctrines defended by the young minister which the latter was scarcely prepared to furnish. Mr. Gale attempted to persuade Finney of the truth of a system of theology which involved the sinfulness of human nature at birth, and of a theory of the atonement in which Christ was represented as making a literal payment of the legal debt of the elect, and as securing their forgiveness, after the manner of a commercial transaction, by setting down to their credit his own righteousness. Naturally Mr. Gale experienced much difficulty in defending this theory of the atonement from Finney's charges of unreasonableness and absurdity. Being unable to present satisfactory reasons to the inquiring mind of his pupil, Mr. Gale urged upon him the impropriety of maintaining views in opposition to those of the learned theologians who, after long thought and discussion, had elaborated this system as the most adequate expression of Christian truth. But Finney did not find it easy to surrender his judgment so completely to mere human authority.

As related by Finney in his memoirs, his contentions with Mr. Gale accorded closely with those current at the time of the disruption in 1837 between the Old School and New School parties in the Presbyterian Church. According to Finney, however, he himself, at this stage of his inquiries, was not familiar at all with the preliminary discussions upon the New School side which led up to this division, since he had access to no theological books whatever except those in Mr. Gale's library. But the so-called governmental theory of the atonement, which he publicly defended very soon after this, and used with such great power in controversy with the Universalists, was to all appearance independently suggested to his mind as he studied the Bible in the light of his experience and legal training. According to his own account, the main outline of his subsequent theological system was sketched in an effort to answer a Universalist minister who maintained that the doctrine of universal salvation was a corollary to the doctrines of Calvinism. The Universalists of that day magnified the atonement, and, having proved from the Bible that its provisions were ample for the whole human race, they contended that, as the debt of all mankind had been paid, the electing love of God must include all men and secure their salvation.

Under stress of this line of argument as urged by the Universalist minister in his parish, and on account of temporary illness, Mr. Gale for the time turned over the public defense of the orthodox doctrine of eternal punishment to Finney, who conducted it on the theory that the atonement was indeed general in its provisions, but was designed simply to satisfy "public justice"⁽²⁾ by honoring the law both in Christ's obedience and in his death; thus rendering it safe for God to pardon sin, to pardon the sins of any man, and of all men, who would repent and believe in Him."⁽³⁾ But the reality of its actual application to all men was shown to depend upon the success of the means employed to secure their repentance and faith. With this presentation Finney silenced the Universalist, and carried with him the convictions of the whole community. The success of this effort surprised Mr. Gale, but did not immediately convince him of the soundness of the positions taken.

The vote for Finney's licensure was unanimous, but it was pretty evident that the Presbytery was actuated more from general considerations of policy, and from fear of being found fighting against God, than from hearty personal approval of the candidate. On this occasion, according to the prescribed custom, he presented to the Presbytery two written sermons, which probably, with a single exception, were the only ones he ever prepared. This exception occurred a few months later, when, at one of his missionary stations, he was somewhat embarrassed by a report which got into circulation to the effect that he did not have the necessary ability to compose a creditably written sermon. Stung by these suspicions, he attempted to demonstrate their injustice by preparing a sermon after the regulation style. But, as the motives inducing him to take this course were not of the most exalted nature, his carefully prepared effort was likely to prove an ignominious failure in the delivery. He was quick to discern the danger, however, and, taking time by the forelock, seized the notes that were impeding his eloquence and flung them under the pulpit out of sight, and then launched forth with his accustomed freedom in extemporaneous argument and exhortation. Finney was ever after an ardent advocate of extemporaneous speaking.

Upon the Sabbath after his licensure, Finney was invited by Mr. Gale to preach before his congregation in the regular service. But his style was so diverse from that which had become fixed in the custom of the times, that it was an occasion of much chagrin to his pastor and teacher, and he told Finney that he should be ashamed to have him known as one of his theological pupils. It is not strange that, at this, Finney "held down his head and felt discouraged." In after years, Mr. Gale had abundant occasion to retract this premature judgment. Eventually he himself became an ardent advocate of the New School Calvinistic party among the Presbyterians; and two or three years later, after having retired from ministerial labor on account of ill health, he was instrumental in opening the way for Finney to engage in the remarkable revivals which spread over Oneida County, of which an account will be given in a subsequent chapter. Mr. Gale afterwards devoted his strength to educational work, beginning his career in this direction by establishing and bringing to a high degree of temporary success the Oneida Institute, an educational enterprise which proved to be an important forerunner of Oberlin. Still later, he removed to Illinois, and perpetuated his name in the college town of Galesburg.

It is difficult to determine the extent of Mr. Gale's influence upon Finney's views. Nor have we been able to ascertain just what books Finney found in Mr. Gale's library. But, according to Finney's own recollection in his declining years, there were few points of agreement, at that time, between him and his pastor and teacher, and the Bible was his own chief theological text-book. This, he says, he read by the hour upon his knees, praying the Lord to help him in his understanding of it. In his later preaching, and in his theological writings, there is clear evidence of the influence of the younger Edwards and of Dr. N. W. Taylor. It certainly was not till some time after this that he came into possession of the writings of the elder Edwards. There need be no question, therefore, that at this period of his development he went for light exclusively, as he says, to the "Bible, and to the philosophy or workings of his own mind, as revealed in consciousness," and especially in the marvelous experiences through which he was passing at the time.

1. See Memoirs of Rev. Charles G. Finney. Written by Himself. New York: A. S. Barnes & Co. 1876.

2. This is a phrase of the younger Edwards, which Finney doubtless adopted from later reading and reflection, and unconsciously interjected in the account of his early experiences. It is pretty certain that he had not then read Edwards, and it is extremely improbable that he independently coined the phrase.

3. Memoirs, p. 50.