Joseph Smith advanced into the flowing river and stood in a pool where the water was well up to his thighs.  Standing thus, he began to speak in the same formal tone and with the same solemn expression that Susannah had marked when he spoke the revelation concerning herself, but more loudly.  “Behold! we have gathered together according to the revelation which has been given to me—­”

Here a dark young man called Oliver Cowdery groaned and said “Amen.”  A tremble of excitement went through the group upon the shore.

Loudly the prophet went on—­“Knowing well that there is nothing in me, who was wicked and graceless to a very high degree, and wanting in knowledge, but was yet chosen, upon this sinful earth and in these last days, when wickedness and hypocrisy is abounding, to open to all who would be saved a new church which is such as that which the angel hath revealed to me a church should be, and all them which shall receive my word and shall be baptized of me or of Mr. Oliver Cowdery, whom the angel Maroni, descending in a cloud of light, has ordained with me to the priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels and of the gospel of repentance and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins.  And this shall never again be taken from the earth until the sons of Levi do offer again an offering unto the Lord in the new Jerusalem.”

The loud voice carried with it an impression of strong personal feeling; the effect on the bystanders was such as the words alone were wholly inadequate to produce.  Cowdery, who during the speech had frequently groaned and responded, after the Methodist fashion, now shouted and clapped his hands towards the heavens, whereupon Lucy Smith fell into a convulsive state between laughter and tears, and the men standing beside her dropped upon their knees.  Emma Smith remained standing; upon her face was a rapt triumphant expression.  She put her arm round Susannah protectingly, and Susannah did not repulse the familiar action.

Joseph Smith now in the same voice called upon his father to be baptized.  He addressed him formally as “Joseph Smith senior.”  The old man had, as it seemed, a great fear of the water.  It took both priests of the new sect together to lift and immerse him.  There was more splashing than was seemly.  The baptism of a farmer named Martin Harris, which followed, was more decorous.

The sunlight lay bright on the other side of the flowing river, and the shadow of the willow tops above them was outlined on the stream.  On the sunny bank opposite there was a thicket of sumac trees reddening to the autumn heat; the wild vine was climbing upon them, making their foliage the more dense, and at their roots, by the edge of the stream, the golden rod was massed.  On the bank on which they stood the colouring was more quiet.  A few ragged spikes of the purple aster were all that grew under the gray green willows, which with every breath turned the silver underside of their soft foliage to the wind.  The place for the baptism had no doubt been chosen because of the depth of the water, and because the bank here was comparatively bare.