Hiram Edson
Back to
Home Back to Bible
Study
On the roster of the pioneers of the Advent Movement no name shines with greater luster than that of Hiram Edson. He was a farmer and lay preacher of Port Gibson, New York, on the old Erie Canal.
He must have been a good farmer; for when, in 1852, James White was founding our first printing office in Rochester, New York, and calls were being sent out to make up the fund, it was Hiram Edson who sold his farm for several thousand dollars and advanced the money needed.
Hiram Edson was a man of good Christian experience. When he first heard the preaching of the Second Advent doctrine, he held the office of steward in the Methodist church. This was about 1839, when he lived in Ontario County, New York.
One evening at the close of his work Brother Edson entered his house and sat by the fire, since it was chilly. It seemed as though by an audible voice the conviction came, "Go, heal thy sick brother." There was a neighbor, very ill, whose case had been given up by the doctor. Startled, Edson thought, "The day of miracles is past." At once he was plunged into a terrible experience of darkness. In distress he appealed to the Lord to save him from ruin. "Go, heal thy sick brother," came again. In response, he said, "Anything, Lord, to save me from this predicament."
Then all was normal. He pulled on his boots and made his way to the man's house. There the family, fatigued, had lain down to rest and had fallen asleep. The candle had burned down so that only a flickering light was left. By it Brother Edson made his way to the bed, and laying his hand upon the man, said, "Brother, the Lord Jesus make you whole." Immediately the man rose to his feet and walked the floor, praising the Lord.
This aroused the family, who came into the room to see what caused the commotion. Brother Edson said to the man, "You are enjoying something that I am not, and I want to share it with you." So they bowed in prayer, and the Holy Spirit's presence was so manifested that some of the family were converted. Then Brother Edson went home, and the family retired.
In the morning the healed man went out to the roadside to cut wood. The doctor drove up, and recognizing him, called him by name, saying, "Is that you? How is this? I expected to find you dead!" "I am a well man," his former patient replied; "the Lord has healed me." The doctor drove on. The day passed.
When the time came to go to the evening meeting, Brother Edson hitched up his team, took his family and the healed man, and drove to the meeting. The church was filled to about its capacity. The pastor gave a short discourse without any apparently emotional appeal. Following this, opportunity was given for testimonies. Several responded, including the healed man. Then, speaking in an ordinary tone of voice, the pastor said, "If there are present those who desire special prayer in their behalf, please stand." Immediately the whole congregation was on its feet. There followed a revival that continued for three weeks, and many were converted.
Hiram Edson's home became a central meeting place for seekers after God in the days just before October 22, "the tenth day of the seventh month," which day the reckoning of the 1844 Adventists had set for the day when the ancient service of cleansing the sanctuary took place in the earthly sanctuary. Hiram Edson told his friend of an experience that occurred as this time neared.
"One evening a two-horse wagon-load of people drove into my yard from a distance of four or five miles. After unloading, they put out the team. When the time arrived for opening the meeting, the man in charge announced a hymn of an ordinary character, and when they began to sing, before a prayer was offered or an exhortation given, the Holy Spirit came in such power that some who came in that load were convicted of sin and requested prayers. The manifestation was so marked that several at a time were on their knees, pleading for pardon."
But Hiram Edson's name is linked with one of the most dramatic incidents in all the story of the Advent Movement. It was on the morning of October 23, 1844, a gray dawn for thousands and ten thousands of the followers of William Miller, who had confidently looked for the Lord to come on the tenth day of the seventh month, October 22. They had closed their earthly businesses; they had sought to set their hearts right with God and with their fellow men; they had taken farewell of earth. This day they had hoped to be in glory.
The twenty-second had dawned a day of hope on a little company in the town of Port Gibson, New York, on the Erie Canal. Hiram Edson, a farmer and lay preacher, was their leader. Although sometimes their meetings had been held in a schoolhouse up the canal, often, as on this day, they congregated at Edson's farmhouse, a mile south of town.
Throughout the bright shining day, until the sun went down, they watched and waited, strengthening one another in hope with a recital of the promises and prophecies. Then with quaking hearts they watched on till midnight. The day was gone, and in apprehension they waited for the dawn. It came with clouds, but not the clouds of glory surrounding the King; they were the old drab wrappings of a desolate earth.
"What can it mean?" They looked into one another's anguished faces. "Is our Savior not coming? Are the prophecies false? Is the Bible untrue? Is there no God?"
"Not so, brethren," said Hiram Edson. "Many, many times the Lord has sent us help and light when we needed it. There is a God, and He will hear us."
Most of the friends left with the dawn and went back to their homes. But Edson and the few remaining went, at his suggestion, out to his barn, and entering the empty granary, they shut the door and knelt to pray. They prayed until comfort came to their hearts, and assurance that in His good time Christ would explain to them their disappointment.
One brother remained to breakfast; perhaps it was Owen Crosier. After breakfast Edson said to him, "Let us go out to comfort the brethren with the assurance we have received."
So they started, not by the road, but across the field, not wishing, I suppose, to meet any of the neighbors, who might taunt them. The field was a cornfield, in which the corn had been cut, and stood in shocks. The two men went silently, each engrossed in his own thoughts.
As they neared the middle of the field, Edson felt as it were a hand upon his shoulder, stopping him; and looking up he saw, as in a vision, the sanctuary in heaven, and Jesus, on that day which ended the 2300 years of the prophecy, leaving the holy place and entering into the most holy, for the "cleansing of the sanctuary."
His friend had crossed to the other side, and, stopped by the fence, he looked back and saw Edson with face uplifted, looking and listening. "Brother Edson," he called, "what are you stopping for?"
And Edson replied, "He is answering our morning prayer."
After this experience Edson and a friend, Dr. F. B. Hahn, along with Crosier (a younger man, and their protege), began in earnest to study out the Scripture proof of Edson's revelation. In a few months they felt they were ready. Edson and Hahn, before the Disappointment, had published a little paper in Canandaigua called the Day Dawn, which heralded the coming. Now Edson said to Hahn, "Let us get out another number of the Day Dawn, and publish this truth." Hahn, who lived at Canandaigua, agreed, and he was named the publisher. Crosier, who had a facile pen, wrote the exposition, which was published in the Day Dawn. To help pay for the edition, Mrs. Edson sold a part of her silverware.
Edson sent the Day Dawn to as many addresses as he could gather. One of these copies reached Joseph Bates; another, James White. At that time, in the spring of 1845, Bates had just accepted the Seventh-day Sabbath, but White had not. Both, however, were interested in the new doctrine of the sanctuary, and at Edson's invitation planned to attend a meeting at his place. James White was unable to go, but Joseph Bates made the journey and met the Port Gibson company.
And thus was formed the nucleus of the company that within a few years became known as Seventh-day Adventists. The little Day Dawn, in its very name, was prophetic.
The account of the meeting of Joseph Bates and Hiram Edson is told in a letter from a veteran worker, Z. P. Kinne, a close friend of Edson, from whom he got the story.
When the time came for Brethren Bates and White to start for the conference, Elder White was called to attend a funeral. This prevented his going. When Elder Bates arrived at Brother Edson's, the two men were entire strangers, except by correspondence. Brother Edson did not know that Brother Bates was a minister, but when the time came to open the meeting, out of courtesy he was invited to conduct it. Brother Edson later told that soon after he received light on the sanctuary, he was impressed that the seventh day is the Sabbath, but without any conviction that it is important to keep it.
After the opening services Elder Bates drew from his pocket his Sabbath tract and began to read. Brother Edson was so interested in it and delighted with it that he could scarcely keep his seat till Elder Bates finished. As soon as the reading was finished, Brother Edson was on his feet, and said, "Brother Bates, that is light and truth! The seventh day is the Sabbath, and I am with you to keep it!"
This forms the connection of the Sabbath truth and the judgment message. These three men (Joseph Bates, James White, and Hiram Edson) had all been giving the first and second angels' messages, and now they constituted the apostles of the third angel's message.
From that time forward they were intimately associated in the promulgation of this message while they lived. It is true that there were Adventist Sabbath-keepers before them, but it is also true that none of them acted so prominent a part in establishing the message as they did.