The life of the Rev. John Newton, rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, London. "An authentic narrative," written by himself: to which some further particulars are added

[ OCT 3 1990 J

BX 5199 .N55 A37 1830
Newton, John, 1725-1807.
The life of the Rev. John
Newton, rector of St. Mary

Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2015

https://archive.org/details/lifeofrevjohnnewOOnewt

JHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHY.

W 1.

THE LIFE OB1

THE

REV. JOHN NEWTON,

RECTOR OF ST. MARY WOOLNOTH, LONDON.

"AH AUTHENTIC .NARRATIVE," WRITTEN BY HIMSELF: TO WHICH
SOME FURTHER PARTICULARS ARE ADDED.

. ill briflg tlie blind by n way that they knew not \ I will lead them in paths that
y have not known ; I will make darkness light before them, and crooked thing*

straight- These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them Ira. 42 1 16.

I :u wonder unto many. — Psaim 71 1 7.

TL-t

m*5

PUBLISHED BY THE

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,

No. 144 Nassau-street, New- York

PRINCETON, N. J.

Presented by A . \A ■ L-Q-meTO'Ti,

^„..IC-.£

CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHY.

THE LIFE OF

THE

RET. JOHN NEWTON,

RECTOR OF ST. MARY WOOLNOTH, LONDON.

'an authentic narrative, written by himself: to which
some further particulars are added.

I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not ; I will lead them in paths that
they have not known ; I will make darkness light before them, and crooked thing*
straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them ha. 42 : 1C.

I am a wonder unto many — Ptalm 71 1 7.

PUBLISHED BY THE

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,

No. 144 Nassau-street, New- York

V

THE LIFE

OF THE

REV. JOHIV NEWTOX,

RECTOR OF ST. MARY WOOLNOTH, LONDON.

The following Letters were written by the late Rev. J. JVeicton, to the,
Bev. T. Haweis, and were first published in the year 1764.

LETTER I.

I make no doubt but you have at times had pleasing re-
flections upon that promise made to the Israelites, in Deut.
8 : 2. They were then in the wilderness, surrounded with
difficulties, which were greatly aggravated by their own
distrust and perverseness : they had experienced a variety
of dispensations, the design of which they could not as yet
understand ; they frequently lost sight of God's gracious
purposes in their favor, and were much discouraged by rea-
son of the way. To compose and animate their minds,
Moses here suggests to them, that there was a future happy
time drawing near, when their journey and warfare should
be finished ; that they should soon be put in possession of
the promised land, and have rest from all their fears and
troubles ; and then it would give them pleasure to look back
upon what they now found so uneasy to bear : " Thou
shalt remember all the way by which the Lord thy God led
thee through this wilderness."

But the importance and comfort of these words is still
greater, if we consider them, in a spiritual sense, as ad-
dressed to all who are passing through the wilderness of
this world to a heavenly Canaan ; who, by faith in the pro-
mises and power of God, are seeking an eternal rest in that
kingdom which cannot be shaken. The hope of that glorious
inheritance inspires us with some degree of courage and
zeal to press forward to the place where Jesus has already
entered as our forerunner; and when our eye is fixed upon

4

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

him, we are more than conquerors over all that would with-
stand our progress. But we have not yet attained ; we still
feel the infirmities of a fallen nature : through the remains
of ignorance and unbelief, we often mistake the Lord's deal-
ings with us, and are ready to complain, when, if we knew
all, we should rather rejoice. But to us likewise there is a
time coming, when our warfare shall be accomplished, our
views enlarged, and our light increased ; then with what
transports of adoration and love shall we look back upon
the way by which the Lord led us ! We shall then see and
acknowledge that mercy and goodness directed every step ;
we shall see, that, what our ignorance once called adversi-
ties and evils, were in reality blessings, which we could not
have done well without ; that nothing befell us without a
cause ; that no trouble came upon us sooner, or pressed on
us more heavily, or continued longer, than our case re-
quired : in a word, that our many afflictions were each in
their place among the means employed by divine grace and
wisdom, to bring us to the possession of that exceeding and
eternal weight of glory which the Lord has prepared for his
people. And even in this imperfect state, though we are
seldom able to judge aright of our present circumstances,
yet if we look upon the years of our past life, and compare
the dispensations we have been brought through with the
frame of our minds under each successive period; if we con-
sider how wonderfully one thing has been connected with
another, so that what we now number amongst our greatest
advantages, perhaps, took their first rise from incidents
which we thought hardly worth our notice ; and that we
have sometimes escaped the greatest dangers that threatened
us, not by any wisdom or foresight of our own, but by the
intervention of circumstances which we neither desired nor
thought of: I say, when we compare and consider these
things by the light offered us in the Holy Scriptures, we
may collect indisputable proof, from the narrow circle of
our own concerns, that the wise and good providence of God
watches over his people from the earliest moment of their
life ; overrules and guards them through all their wanderings
in a state of ignorance, and leads them in a way that they
know not, till at length his providence and grace concur in
those events and impressions which bring them to the know-
ledge of him and themselves.

53

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

5

I am persuaded that every believer will, upon due re-
flection, see enough in his own case to confirm this remark ;
but not all in the same degree. The outward circumstances
of many have been uniform, they have known but little va-
riety in life ; and, with respect to their inward change, it has
been effected in a secret way, unnoticed by others, and al-
most unperceived by themselves. The Lord has spoken to
them, not in thunder and tempest ; but with a still small
voice he has drawn them gradually to himself; so that,
though they have a happy assurance that they know and
love him, and are passed from death unto life, yet of the
precise time and manner, they can give little account.
Others he seems to select in order to show the exceeding
riches of his grace, and the greatness of his mighty power:
he suffers the natural rebellion and wickedness of their
hearts to have full scope : while sinners of less note are cut
off with little warning, these are spared, though sinning with
a high hand, and, as it were, studying their own destruction.
At length, when all that knew them are perhaps expecting
to hear that they are made signal instances of divine ven-
geance,the Lord (whose thoughts are high above ours, as
the heavens are higher than the earth) is pleased to pluck
them as brands out of the fire, and to make them monu-
ments of his mercy, for the encouragement of others: they
are, beyond expectation, convinced, pardoned, and changed

A case of this sort indicates a divine power no less than
the creation of a world : it is evidently the Lord's doing,
and it is marvellous in the eyes of all those who are not
blinded by prejudice and unbelief.

Such was the persecuting Saul : his heart was full of en-
mity against Jesvs of Nazareth, and therefore he persecuted
and made havoc of his disciples.

He had been a terror to the church of Jerusalem, and
was going to Damascus with the same views. He was yet
breathing out threatenings and slaughter against all that
loved the Lord Jesus. He thought little of the mischief he
had hitherto done. He was engaged for the suppression of
the whole sect ; and hurrying from house to house, from
place to place, he carried menaces in his look, and repeated
threatenings with every breath. Such was his spirit and
temper, when the Lord Jesus, whom he hated and opposed,
'.hecked him in the height of his rage, called this bitter per-

LIFE OF REV. JOIIN NEWTON.

[6

secutoi to the honor of an apostle, and inspired him to
preach, with great zeal and earnestness, that faith which he
so lately labored to destroy.

Nor are we without remarkable displays of the same
sovereign efficacious grace in our own times : I may parti-
cularly mention the instance of the late Colonel Gardiner.
If any real satisfaction could be found in a sinful course, he
would have met with it ; for he pursued the experiment with
all possible advantages. He was habituated to evil ; and
many uncommon, almost miraculous, deliverances made no
impression upon him. Yet, he likewise was made willing in
the day of God's power ; and the bright example of his life,
illustrated and diffused by the account of him published
since his death, has afforded an occasion of much praise to
God, and much comfort to his people.

After the mention of such names, can you permit me,
Sir, to add my own? If I do, it must be with a very hum-
bling distinction. These once eminent sinners proved emi-
nent Christians : much had been forgiven them, they loved
much. St. Paul could say, " The grace bestowed upon me
was not in vain ; for I labored more abundantly than they
all." Colonel Gardiner likewise was as a city set upon a
hill, a burning and a shining light : the manner of his con-
version was hardly more singular than the whole course of
his conversation from that time to his death. Here, alas !
the parallel greatly fails. It has not been thus with me. I
must take deserved shame to myself, that I have made very
unsuitable returns for what. I have received. But, if the
question is only concerning the patience and long-suffering
of God, the wonderful interposition of his providence in
favor of an unworthy sinner, the power of his grace in soft-
ening the hardest heart, and the riches of his mercy in par-
doning the most enormous and aggravated transgressions ;
in these respects I know no case more extraordinary than
my own : and indeed most persons to whom I have related
my story, have thought it worthy of being preserved.

1 never gave any succinct account, in writing, of the
Lord's dealing with me, till very lately : for I was deterred,
on the one hand, by the great difficulty of writing properly
when Self is concerned; on the other, by the ill use which
persons of corrupt and perverse minds are often known to
make of such instances. The Psalmist reminds us, that a

LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

7

reserve in these things is proper, when lie says, " Come and
hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath
done for ray soul ; and our Lord cautions us not to " cast
pearls before swine." The pearls of a Christian are, per-
haps, his choice experiences of the Lord's power and love
in the concerns of his soul ; and these should not be at all
adventures made public, lest we give occasion to earthly
and grovelling souls to profane what they cannot under-
stand. These were the chief reasons of my backwardness ;
but a few weeks since I yielded to the judgment and request
of a much-respected friend, and sent him a relation at large,
in a series of eight letters. The event has been what I little
expected : I wrote to one person ; but my letters have fall-
en into many hands : amongst others, I find they have
reached your notice; and, instead of blaming me for being
too tedious and circumstantial, which was the fault I feared
1 had committed, you are pleased to desire a still more dis-
tinct detail. As you and other of my friends apprehend my
compliance with this request may be attended with some
good effect, may promote the pleasing work of praise to
our adorable Redeemer, or confirm the faith of some or
other of his people, I am willing to obey : I give up my own
reasonings upon the inexpediency of so inconsiderable a
person as myself adventuring in so public a point of view.
If God may be glorified on my behalf, and his children in
any measure comforted or instructed by what I have to de-
clare of his goodness, I shall be satisfied ; and am content to
leave all other possible consequences of this undertaking in
His hands who does all things well.

I must again have recourse to my memory, as I retained
no copies of the letters you saw. So far as I can recollect,
what I then wrote I will relate ; but shall not affect a need-
less variety of phrase and manner, merely because those
have been already perused by many. I may, perhaps, in
some places, when repeating the same facts, express myself
in nearly the same words; yet I propose, according to your
desire, to make this relation more explicit and particular
than the former ; especially toward the close, which I wound
up hastily, lest my friend should be wearied. I hope you
w ill likewise excuse me, if I do not strictly confine myself
to narration, but now and then intersperse such reflections
as may offer while I am writing ; and though you have sig-

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWlONi

P

nified your intentions of communicating what I send you to
others, I must not, on this account, affect a conciseness and
correctness, which is not my natural talent, lest the whole
should appear dry and constrained. I shall, therefore, if
possible, think only of you, and write with that confidence
and freedom which your friendship and candor deserve.
This sheet may stand as a preface ; and I purpose, as far as
I can, to intermit many other engagements, until I have
completed the task you have assigned me. In the mean-
time, I entreat the assistance of your prayers, that in this,
and all my poor attempts, I may have a single eye to His
glory who was pleased to call me out of horrid darkness
into the marvellous light of his Gospel.

LETTER II.

1 can sometimes feel a pleasure in repeating the grate-
ful acknowledgment of David, " O Lord, I am thy servant,
the son of thine handmaid ; thou hast loosed my bonds."
The tender mercies of God toward me were manifested in
the first moment of my life. I was born, as it were, in his
house. My mother (as I have heard from many) was a pious,
experienced Christian : she was a dissenter, in communion
with the late Dr. Jennings. I was her only child ; and as
she was of a weak constitution, and a retired temper, almost
her whole employment was the care of my education. I
have some faint remembrance of her care and instructions.
At a time when I could not be more than three years of
age, she herself taught me English ; and with so much suc-
cess, (as I had something of a forward turn,) that when I
was four years old I could read with propriety in any com-
mon book that offered. She stored my memory, which
was then very retentive, with many valuable pieces, chap-
ters, and portions of Scripture, catechisms, hymns, and
poems. My temper at that time seemed quite suitable to her
wishes ; I had little inclination to the noisy sports of chil-
dren, but was best pleased when in her company, and al-
ways as willing to learn as she was to teach me. How far
the best education may fall short of reaching the heart, will
strongly appear in the sequel of my history : yet I think, for

9]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

9

the encouragement of pious parents to go on in the good
way of doing their part faithfully to form their children's
minds, I may properly propose myself as an instance.
Though in process of time I sinned away all the advantages
of these early impressions, yet they were for a great while
a restraint upon me; they returned again and again, and it
was very long before I could wholly shake them off; and
when the Lord at length opened my eyes, I found a great
benefit from the recollection of them. Further, my dear
mother, besides the pains she took with me, often com-
mended me, with many prayers and tears, to God ; and I
doubt not but I reap the fruits of these prayers to this hour.

My mother observed my early progress with peculiar
pleasure, and intended, from the first, to bring me up with a
view to the ministry, if it should please God to convert me
by his grace, and incline my heart to the work. In my sixth
year I began to learn Latin ; but before I had time to know
much about it, the intended plan of my education was
broken short. The Lord's designs were far beyond the views
of an earthly parent: he was pleased to reserve me for unu-
sual proof of his patience, providence, and grace ; and there-
fore overruled the purpose of my friends, by depriving me
of this excellent parent when I was something under seven
years old. I was born the 24th of July, 1725, and she died
the 11th of that month, 1732.

My father was then at sea : (he was a commander in the
Mediterranean trade at that time :) he came home the fol-
lowing year, and soon after married again. Thus I passed
into different hands. I was well treated in all other respects;
but the loss of my mother's instructions was not repaired.
I was now permitted to mingle with careless and profa*ne
children, and soon began to learn their ways. Soon after
my father's marriage I was sent to a boarding-school in
Essex, where the imprudent severity of the master almost
broke my spirit and relish for books. With him I forgot the
first principles and rules of arithmetic, which my mother
had taught me years before. I staid there two years: in the
last of the two, a new usher coming, who observed and
suited my temper, I took to the Latin with great eagerness;
so that before I was ten years old I reached and maintained
the first post in the second class, which in that school read
Tully and Virgil. I believe I was pushed forward too fast,

10

LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[10

and therefore, not being grounded, I soon lost all I had
learned ; (for I left school in my tenth year ;) and when I
long afterward undertook the Latin language from books, I
think I had little, if any, advantage from what I had learned
before.

My father's second marriage was from a family in Essex;
and when I was eleven years old he took me with him to
sea. He was a man of remarkable good sense, and great
knowledge of the world; he took great care of my morals,
but could not supply my mother's part. Having been edu-
cated himself in Spain, he always observed an air of dis-
tance and severity in his carriage, which overawed and
discouraged my spirit. I was always in fear when before
him, and therefore he had the less influence. From that time
to the year 1742, I made several voyages ; but with consi-
derable intervals between ; which were chiefly spent in the
country, excepting a few months in my fifteenth year, when
I was placed upon a very advantageous prospect at Alicant
in Spain. But my unsettled behavior, and impatience of
restraint, rendered that design abortive.

In this period, my temper and conduct were exceedingly
various. At school, or soon after, I had little concern about
religion, and easily received very ill impressions. But I was
often disturbed with convictions. I was fond of reading, from
a child. Among other books, Bennet's Christian Oratory
often came in my way; and though I understood but little
of it, the course of life therein recommended appeared very
desirable, and I was inclined to attempt it. I began to pray,
to read the Scripture, and keep a sort of diary. I was pre-
sently religious, in my own eyes ; but, alas ! this seeming
goodness had no solid foundation, but passed away like a
morning-cloud, or the early dew. I was soon weary, gra-
dually gave it up, and became worse than before. Instead
of prayer, 1 learned to curse and blaspheme, and was ex-
ceedingly wicked when not under my parent's view. All
this was before I was twelve years old. About that time I
had a dangerous fall from a horse : I was thrown, I believe,
within a few inches of a hedge-row newly cut down. I got
no hurt ; but could not avoid taking notice of a gracious
providence in my deliverance ; for had I fallen upon the
stakes, I had inevitably been killed. My conscience sug-
gested to me the dreadful consequences, if, in such a state

11]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

II

I had been summoned to appear before God. I presently
broke off from my profane practices, and appeared quite
altered. But it was not long before I declined again. These
struggles between sin and conscience were often repeated ;
but the consequence was, that every relapse sunk me into
still greater depths of wickedness. I was once roused by the
loss of an intimate companion. We had agreed to go on
board a man of war; (I think it was on the Sabbath;) but I
providentially came too late ; the boat was overset, and he
and several others were drowned. I was invited to the
funeral of my play-fellow, and was exceedingly affected, to
think that by a delay of a few minutes (which had much
displeased and angered me till I saw the event) my life had
been preserved. However, this likewise was soon forgot.
At another time, the perusal of the Family Instructor put me
upon a partial and transient reformation. In brief, though I
cannot distinctly relate particulars, I think I took up and
laid aside a religious profession three or four different times
before I was sixteen years of age : but all this while my
heart was insincere. I often saw the necessity of religion
as a means of escaping hell ; but I loved sin, and was unwill-
ing to forsake it. Instances of this, I can remember, were
frequent. In the midst of all my forms, I was so strangely
blind and stupid, that sometimes when I have been deter-
mined upon things which I knew were sinful, and contrary
to my duty, I could not go on quietly till I had first des-
patched my ordinary task of prayer, in which I have
grudged every moment of my time ; and when this was
finished, my conscience was in some measure pacified, and
I could rush into folly with little remorse.

My last reform was the most remarkable, both for degree
and continuance. Of this period, at least of some part of it,
I may say in the Apostle's words, " After the straitest sect
of our religion, I lived a Pharisee." I did every thing that
might be expected from a person entirely ignorant of God's
righteousness, and desirous to establish his own. I spent the
greatest part of every day in reading the Scriptures, medi-
tation, and prayer. I fasted often ; I even abstained from all
animal food for three months; I would hardly answer a
question for fear of speaking an idle word. I seemed to
bemoan my former miscarriages very earnestly, sometimes
with tears. In short, I became an ascetic, and endeavored,

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[12

so far as my situation would permit, to renounce society,
that I might avoid temptation. I continued in this serious
mood (I cannot give it a higher title) for more than two
years without any considerable breaking off: but it was a
poor religion ; it left me, in many respects, under the power
of sin; and, so far as it prevailed, only tended to make me
gloomy, stupid, unsociable, and useless.

Such was the frame of my mind when I became ac-
quainted with a work of Lord Shaftesbury's. I saw the
second volume of his Characteristics in a petty shop at Mid-
dleburg, in Holland. The title allured me to buy it, and the
style and manner gave me great pleasure in reading, espe-
cially the second piece, which his lordship, with great pro-
priety, has entitled A Rhapsody. Nothing could be more
suited to the romantic turn of my mind than the address of
this pompous declamation. Of the design and tendency I
was not aware : I thought the author a most religious person,
and that I had only to follow him and be happy. Thus, with
fine words, and fair speeches, my simple heart was beguiled.
This book was always in my hand : I read it till I could very
nearly repeat the Rhapsody, word for word, from beginning
to end. No immediate effect followed ; but it operated like
a slow poison, and prepared the way for all that followed.

This letter brings my history down to December, 1742.
1 was then lately returned from a voyage ; and my father
not intending me for the sea again, was thinking how to
settle me in the world : but I had little life or spirit for busi-
ness ; I knew but little of men and things. I was fond of a
visionary scheme of a contemplative life, a medley of reli-
gion, philosophy, and indolence ; and was quite averse to
the thoughts of an industrious application to business. At
length a merchant in Liverpool, an intimate friend of my
father's, (to whom, as the instrument of God's goodness, I
have since been chiefly indebted for all my earthly com-
forts,) proposed to send me for some years to Jamaica, and
to charge himself with the care of my future fortune. I con-
sented to this ; and every thing was prepared for my voyage.
I was upon the point of setting out the following week. In
the mean time my father sent me on some business to a
place a few miles beyond Maidstone, in Kent; and this little
journey, which was to have been only for three or four days,
occasioned a sudden and remarkable turn, which roused

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

13

me from the habitual indolence I had contracted, and gave
rise to the series of uncommon dispensations, of which you
desire a more particular account. So true it is, that " the
way of man is not in himself ; it is not in man that walketh
io direct his steps."

LETTER III.

A few days before my intended journey into Kent, I re-
ceived an invitation to visit a family in that county. They
were distant relations, but very intimate friends of my dear
mother. She died in their house ; but a coolness took place
upon my father's second marriage, and I had heard nothing
of them for many years. As my road lay within half a mile
of their house, I obtained my father's leave to call on. them.
I was, however, very indifferent about it, and sometimes
thought of passing on : however, I went. I was known at
first sight, before I could tell my name, and met with the
kindest reception, as the child of a dear deceased friend.
My friends had two daughters. The eldest (as I understood
some years afterward) had been often considered by her
mother and mine, as a future wife for me, from the time of
her birth. I know, indeed, that intimate friends frequently
amuse themselves with such distant prospects for their chil-
dren, and that they miscarry much oftener than succeed. I
do not say that my mother predicted what was to happen,
yet there was something remarkable in the manner of its
taking place. All intercourse between the families had been
long broken off; I was going into a foreign country, and
only called to pay a hasty visit ; and this I should not have
thought of, but for a message received just at that crisis, for
1 had not been invited at any time before. Thus the cir-
cumstances were precarious in the highest degree, and the
event was as extraordinary. Almost at the first sight of this
girl (for she was then under fourteen) I was impressed with
an affection for her, which never abated or lost its influ-
ence a single moment in my heart from that hour. In de-
gree, it actually equalled all that the writers of romance
have imagined ; in duration, it was unalterable. I soon lost
all sense of religion, and became deaf to the remonstran-
ces of conscience and prudence ; but my regard for her was

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[14

always the same ; and I may perhaps venture to say, that
none of the scenes of misery and wickedness I afterward ex-
perienced, ever banished her a single hour together from
my waking thoughts, for the seven following years.

Give me leave, Sir, to reflect a little upon this unex-
pected incident, and to consider its influence upon my fu-
ture life, and how far it was subservient to the views of
Divine Providence concerning me ; which seem to have
been twofold ; that by being given up for a while to the
consequences of my own wilfulness, and afterward reclaim-
ed by a high hand, my case, so far as it should be known,
might be both a warning and an encouragement to others.

In the first place, hardly any thing less than this violent
and commanding passion would have been sufficient to
awaken me from the dull melancholy habit I had contract-
ed. I was almost a misanthrope, notwithstanding I so much
admired the pictures of virtue and benevolence, as drawn by
lord Shaftesbury ; but now my reluctance to active life was
overpowered at once, and I was willing to be or to do any
thing which might subserve the accomplishment of my
wishes at some future time.

Farther, when I afterward made shipwreck of faith, hope,
and conscience, my love to this person was the only remain-
ing principle which in any degree supplied their place ; and
the bare possibility of seeing her again, was the only pre-
sent and obvious means of restraining me from the most
horrid designs against myself and others.

But then the ill effects it brought upon me counterba-
lanced these advantages. The interval usually styled the
time of courtship, is indeed a pleasing part of life, where
there is a mutual affection, the consent of friends, a reason-
able prospect as to settlement, and the whole is conducted
in a prudential manner, and in subordination to the will and
fear of God. When things are thus situated, it is a blessing
to be susceptive of the tender passions. But when these
concomitants are wanting, what we call love, is the most tor-
menting passion in itself, and the most destructive in its con-
sequences, that can be named. And they were all wanting
in my case. I durst not mention it to her friends, or to my
own, nor indeed, for a considerable time, to herself, as I
could make no proposals : it remained as a dark fire, locked
up in my own breast, which gave me constant uneasiness

15j

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

15

By introducing an idolatrous regard to a creature, it greatly
weakened my sense of religion, and made farther way for
the entrance of infidel principles ; and though it seemed to
promise great things, as an incentive to diligence and activity
in life, in reality it performed nothing. I often formed mighty
projects in my mind of what I would willingly do or suffer
for the sake of her I loved ; yet while I could have her
company, I was incapable of forcing myself away, to im-
prove opportunities that offered. Still less could it do in
regulating my conduct. It did not prevent me from engaging
in a long train of excess and riot, utterly unworthy the ho-
norable pretensions I had formed. And though, through the
wonderful interposition of Divine Goodness, the maze of my
follies was at length unravelled, and my wishes crowned in
such a manner as overpaid my sufferings, yet I am sure I
would not go through the same series of trouble again to
possess all the treasures of both the Indies. I have enlarged
more than I intended on this point, as perhaps these papers
may be useful to caution others against indulging an ungo-
vernable passion, by my painful experience. How often may
such headstrong votaries be said " to sow the wind, and to
reap the whirlwind !"

My heart being now fixed and riveted to a particular
object, I considered every thing I was concerned with in a
new light. I concluded it would be absolutely impossible to
live at such a distance as Jamaica, for a term of four or five
years; and therefore determined, at all events, that I would
not go. I could not bear either to acquaint my father with
the true reason, or to invent a false one; therefore, without
taking any notice to him why I did so, I stayed three weeks,
instead of three days, in Kent, till I thought (as it proved)
the opportunity would be lost, and the ships sailed. I then
returned to London. I had highly displeased my father by
this disobedience ; but he was more easily reconciled than
I could have expected. In a little time I sailed with a friend
of his to Venice. In this voyage I was exposed to the com-
pany and ill-example of the common sailors, among whom
I ranked. Importunity and opportunity presenting every
day, I once more began to relax from the sobriety and order
which I had observed, in some degree, for more than two
years. I was sometimes pierced with sharp convictions ; but
though I made a few faint efforts to stop, I at no time re-

16

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[16

covered from this declension, as I had done from several
before : I did not indeed, as yet, turn out profligate ; but 1
was making large strides toward a total apostacy from God.
The most remarkable check and alarm I received (and, for
what I know, the last) was by a dream, which made a very
strong, though not abiding impression upon my mind.

The consideration of whom I am writing to, renders it
needless for me either to enter upon a discussion of the
nature of dreams in general, or to make an apology for re-
cording my own. Those who acknowledge Scripture will
allow that there have been monitory and supernatural
dreams, evident communications from heaven, either di-
recting or foreteling future events: and those who are ac-
quainted with the history and experience of the people of
God, are well assured, that such intimations "have not been
totally withheld in any period down to the present times.
Reason, far from contradicting this supposition, strongly
pleads for it, where the process of reasoning is rightly under-
stood and carefully pursued. So that a late eminent writer,
who I presume is not generally charged with enthusiasm,
undertakes to prove, that the phaenomenon of dreaming is
inexplicable at least, if not absolutely impossible, without
taking in the agency and intervention of spiritual beings, to
us invisible. For my own part, I can say, without scruple,
" The dream is certain, and the interpretation thereof sure."
I am sure I dreamed to the following effect ; and I cannot
doubt, from what I have seen since, that it had a direct and
easy application to my own circumstances, to the dangers
in which I was about to plunge myself, and to the unmerited
deliverance and mercy which God would be pleased to
afford me in the time of my distress.

Though 1 have written out a relation of this dream more
than once for others, it has happened that I never reserved
a copy ; but the principal incidents are so deeply engraven
on my memory, that I believe I am not liable to any consi-
derable variation in repeating the account. The scene pre-
sented to my imagination was the harbor of Venice, where
we had lately been. I thought it was night, and my watch
upon the deck ; and that, as I was walking to and fro by
myself a person came to me, (I do not remember from
whence,) and brought me a ring, with an express charge to
keep it carefully ; assuring me, that white I preserved that

17]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

17

ring, I should be happy and successful ; but if I lost or part-
ed with it, 1 must expect nothing but trouble and misery
I accepted the present and the terms willingly, not in the
least doubting my own care to preserve it, and highly satis-
fied to have my happiness in my own keeping. I was en-
gaged in these thoughts, when a second person came to me,
and observing the ring on my finger, took occasion to ask
me some questions concerning it. I readily told him its vir-
tues ; and his answer expressed a surprise at my weakness,
in expecting such effects from a ring. I think he reasoned
with me some time upon the impossibility of the thing; and
at length urged me, in direct terms, to throw it away. At
first I was shocked at the proposal ; but his insinuations
prevailed. I began to reason and doubt myself ; and at last
plucked it off my finger, and dropped it over the ship's side
into the water ; which it had no sooner touched, than I saw,
the same instant, a terrible fire burst out from a range of
the mountains, (a part of the Alps,) which appeared at some
distance behind the city of Venice. I saw the hills as dis-
tinct as if awake, and they were all in flames. I perceived,
too late, my folly ; and my tempter, with an air of insult,
informed me, that all the mercy God had in reserve for me
was comprised in that ring, which I had wilfully thrown
away. I understood that I must now go with him to the
burning mountains ; and that all the flames I saw were kin-
dled upon my account. I trembled, and was in a great
agony ; so that it was surprising I did not then awake : but
my dream continued ; and when I thought myself upon the
point of a constrained departure, and stood, self-condemn-
ed, without plea or hope, suddenly, either a third person,
or the same who brought the ring at first, came to me, (I am
not certain whici^) and demanded the cause of my grief. I
told him the plain case, confessing that I had ruined myself
wilfully, and deserved no pity. He blamed my rashness ;
and asked if 1 should be wiser supposing I had my ring
again? I could hardly answer to this ; for I thought it was
gone beyond recall. I believe, indeed, I had not time to
answer, before I saw this unexpected friend go down under
the water, just in the spot where I had dropped it ; and he
soon returned, bringing the ring with him. The moment ho
came on board the flames in the mountains were extin-
guished, and my seducer left me. Then was " the prey

IS

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[18

taken from the hand of the mighty, and the lawful captive
delivered." My fears were at an end, and with joy and
gratitude I approached my kind deliverer to receive the ring
again ; but he refused to return it, and spoke to this effect :
If you should be intrusted with this ring again, you would
very soon bring yourself into the same distress ; you are
not able to keep it ; but I will preserve it for you, and,
whenever it is needful, will produce it in your behalf."
Upon this I awoke in a state of mind not easy to be de-
scribed : I could hardly eat, or sleep, or transact my neces-
sary business, for two or three days. But the impression
soon wore off, and in a little time I totally forgot it ; and I
think it hardly occurred to my mind again till several years
afterward. It will appear, in the course of these papers,
that a time came when I found myself in circumstances
very nearly resembling those suggested by this extraordinary
dream, when I stood helpless and hopeless upon the brink
of an awful eternity ; and I doubt not that, had the eyes of
my mind been then opened, I should have seen my grand
enemy, who had seduced me wilfully to renounce and cast
away my religious profession, and to involve myself in the
most complicated crimes, pleased with my agonies, and
waiting for a permission to seize and bear away my soul to
his place of torment. I should perhaps have seen likewise,
that Jesus, whom I had persecuted and defied, rebuking the
adversary, challenging me for his own, as a brand plucked
out of the fire, and saying, " Deliver him from going down
to the pit : I have found a ransom." However, though I
saw not these things, I found the benefit ; I obtained mercy.
The Lord answered for me in the day of my distress ; and
blessed be his name, he who restored the ring, (or what was
signified by it,) vouchsafes to keep it. O^hat an unspeak-
able comfort is this, that I am not in my own keeping ! —
" The Lord is my Shepherd." I have been enabled to trust
my all in his hands ; and I know in whom I have believed.
Satan still desires to have me, that he might sift me as wheat ;
but my Savior has prayed for me, that my faith may not fail.
Here is my security and power; a bulwark against which
the gates of hell cannot prevail. But for this, many a time
and often (if possible) I should have ruined myself since my
first deliverance ; nay, I should fall, and stumble, and perish
still, after all that the Lord has done for me., if his faithful-

19]

LIFE OF KEV. JOHN NEWTON.

19

ness were not engaged in my behalf, to be my sun and shield
even unto death. — " Bless the Lord, O my soul."

Nothing very remarkable occurred in the following part of
that voyage. I returned home in December, 1743, and soon
after repeated my visit to Kent, where I protracted my stay
in the same imprudent manner I had done before j, which
again disappointed my father's designs in my favor, and al-
most provoked him to disown me. Before any thing suita-
ble offered again, I was impressed, (owing entirely to my
own thoughtless conduct, which was all of a piece,) and put
on board a tender: it was at a critical juncture, when the
French fleets were hovering upon our coast, so that my
father was unable to procure my release. In a few days I
was sent on board the Harwich man-of-war, at the Nore :
I entered here upon quite a new scene of life, and endured
much hardship for about a month. My father was then will-
ing that I should remain in the navy, as a war was daily ex-
pected, and procured me a recommendation to the captain,
who took me upon the quarter-deck as a midshipman. 1 had
now an easy life as to externals, and might have gained re-
spect; but my mind was unsettled, and my behavior very
indifferent. I here met with companions who completed the
ruin of my principles ; and though I affected to talk of virtue,
and was not so outwardly abandoned as afterward, yet my
delight and habitual practice was wickedness. My chief in-
timate was a person of exceeding good natural talents, and
much observation ; he was the greatest master of what is
called the free-thinking scheme I remember to have met with,
and knew how to insinuate his sentiments in the most plau-
sible way. And his zeal was equal to his address : he could
hardly have labored more in the cause, if he had expected
to gain heaven by it. Allow me to add, while I think of it,
that this man whom I honored as my master, and whose
practice I adopted so eagerly, perished in the same way as
I expected to have done. I have been told that he was
overtaken in a voyage from Lisbon by a violent storm ; the
vessel and people escaped, but a great sea broke on board,
and swept him into eternity. Thus the Lord spares or pu-
nishes, according to his sovereign pleasure ! But to return :
I was fond of his company ; and having myself a smattering
of books, was eager enough to show my reading. He soon
perceived my case, that I had not wholly broken through

20

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[20

the restraints of conscience, and therefore did not shock mo
at first with too broad intimations of his design ; he rather,
as I thought, spoke favorably of religion ; but when he had
gained my confidence, he began to speak plainer ; and per-
ceiving my ignorant attachment to the characteristics, he
joined issue with me upon that book, and convinced me that
I had never understood it. In a word, he so plied me with
objections and arguments, that my depraved heart was soon
gained, and I entered into his plan with all my spirit. Thus,
like an unwary sailor, who quits his port just before a rising
storm, I renounced the hopes and comforts of the Gospel
at the very time when every other comfort was about to
fail me.

In December, 1744, the Harwich was in the Downs,
bound to the East Indies. The captain gave me liberty to
go on shore for a day; but without consulting prudence, or
regarding consequences, I took horse, and following the
dictates of my restless passion, I went to take a last leave
of her I loved. I had little satisfaction in the interview, as I
was sensible that I was taking pains to multiply my own
troubles. The short time I could stay passed like a dream ;
and on new-year's day, 1745, 1 took nvy leave to return to
the ship. The captain was prevailed on to excuse my ab-
sence ; but this rash step (especially as it was not the first
liberty of the kind I had taken) highly displeased him, and
lost me his favor, which I never recovered.

At length we sailed from Spithead with a very large fleet.
We put into Torbay with a change of wind ; but it return-
ing fair again, we sailed the next day. Several of our fleet
were lost in attempting to leave that place ; but the follow-
ing night the whole fleet was greatly endangered upon the
coast of Cornwall, by a storm from the southward. The
darkness of the night, and the number of the vessels, occa-
sioned much confusion and damage. Our ship, though seve-
ral times in imminent danger of being run down by other
vessels, escaped unhurt ; but many suffered much, particu-
larly the Admiral. This occasioned our putting back to
Plymouth.

While we lay at Plymouth, I heard that my father, who
had interest in some of the ships lately lost, was come down
to Torbay. He had a connection at that time with the Afri-
can Company. I thought, if I could get to him, he might

21]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

2]

easily introduce me into that service, which would he hetter
than pursuing a long, uncertain voyage to the East Indies.
It was a maxim with me in those unhappy days, never to
deliberate : the thought hardly occurred to me, but I was re-
solved to leave the ship at all events; I did so, and in the
wrongest manner possible. I was sent one day in the boat,
to take care that none of the people deserted ; but 1 betray-
ed my trust, and went off myself. I knew not what road to
take, and durst not ask, for fear of being suspected; yet
having some general idea of the country, I guessed right ;
and when I had travelled some miles, I found, upon inquiry,
that I was on the road to Dartmouth. All went smoothly
that day, and part of the next ; I walked apace, and expect-
ed to have been with my father in about two hours, when
I was met by a small party of soldiers. I could not avoid or
deceive them. They brought me back to Plymouth ; I
walked through the streets guarded like a felon. My heart
was full of indignation, shame, and fear. I was confined two
days in the guard-house, then sent on board my ship, kept
a while in irons, then publicly stripped and whipped ; after
which I was degraded from my office, and all my former
companions forbidden to show me the least favor, or even
to speak to me. As midshipman, I had been entitled to some
command, which (being sufficiently haughty and vain) I had
not been backward to exert. I was now, in my turn, brought
down to a level with the lowest, and exposed to the in-
sults of all.

And, as my present situation was uncomfortable, my fu-
ture prospects were still worse ; the evils I suffered were
likely to grow heavier every day. While my catastrophe
was recent, the officers, and my quondam brethren, were
something disposed to screen me from ill usage ; but during
the little time I remained with them afterward, I found
them cool very fast in their endeavors to protect me. In-
deed they could not avoid it without running a great risk
of sharing with me ; for the captain, though in general a
humane man, who behaved very well to the ship's company,
was almost implacable in his resentment when he had been
greatly offended, and took several occasions to show him-
self so to me ; and the voyage was expected to be (as it
proved) for five years. Yet I think nothing I either felt or
feared distressed me so much as to see myself thus forcibly

22

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[22

torn away from the object of my affections under a great
improbability of seeing her again, and a much greater of re-
turning in such a manner as would give me hopes of seeing
her mine. Thus I was as miserable on all hands as could
well be imagined. My breast was filled with the most ex-
cruciating passions, eager desire, bitter rage, and black des-
pair. Every hour exposed me to some new insult and hard-
ship, with no hope of relief or mitigation; no friend to take
my part, or to listen to my complaint. Whether I looked
inward or outward, I could perceive nothing but darkness
and misery. I think no case, except that of a conscience
%vounded by the wrath of God, could be more dreadful than
mine : I cannot express with what wishfulness and regret I
cast my last looks upon the English shore : I kept my eyes
fixed upon it till, the ship's distance increasing, it insensibly
disappeared ; and when I could see it no longer, I was
tempted to throw myself into the sea, which (according to
the wicked system I had adopted) would put a period to all
my sorrows at once. But the secret hand of God restrained
me. Help me to praise him, dear Sir, for his wonderful
goodness to the most unworthy of all his creatures.

LETTER IV

Though I desired your instructions as to the manner and
extent of these memoirs, I began to write before I received
them, and had almost finished the preceding sheet when
your favor of the 11th came to hand. I shall find another
occasion to acknowledge my sense of your kind expressions
of friendship, which I pray the Lord I may never give you
cause to repent of or withdraw; at present I shall confine
myself to what more particularly relates to the task assigned
me. I shall obey you, Sir, in taking notice of the little inci-
dents you recall to my memory, and of others of the like
nature, which, without your direction, I should have thought
too trivial, and too much my own, to deserve mentioning.
When I began the eight letters, I intended to say no more
of myself than might be necessary to illustrate the wonders
of divine providence and grace in the leading turns of my

23]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

23

life ; but I account your judgment a sufficient warrant for
enlarging my plan.

Amongst other things, you desired a more explicit ac-
count of the state and progress of my courtship, as it is usual-
ly phrased. This was the point in which I thought it espe-
cially became me to be very brief; but 1 submit to you ; and
this seems a proper place to resume it, by telling you how
it stood at the time of my leaving England. AVhen my in-
clinations first discovered themselves, both parties were so
young, that no one but myself considered it in a serious
view. It served for tea-table talk amongst our friends ; and
nothing farther was expected from it. But afterward, when
my passion seemed to have abiding effects, so that in an in-
terval of two years it was not at all abated ; and especially
as it occasioned me to act without any regard to prudence
or interest, or my father's designs ; and as there was a cool-
ness between him and the family, her parents began to con-
sider it as a matter of consequence ; and when I took my
last leave of them, her mother, at the same time that she
expressed the most tender affection for me, as if I had been
her own child, told me, that, though she had no objections
to make, upon a supposition that at a maturer age there
should be a probability of our engaging upon a prudent pros-
pect, yet as things then stood, she thought herself obliged to
interfere ; and therefore desired I would no more think of
returning to their house, unless her daughter was from home,
till such time as I could either prevail with myself entirely
to give up my pretensions, or could assure her that I had
my father's express consent to continue them. Much de-
pended on Mrs. N 's part in this affair ; it was some-
thing difficult ; but though she was young, gay, and quite
unpractised in such matters, she was directed to a happy
medium. A positive encouragement, or an absolute refusal,
would have been attended with equal, though different dis-
advantages. But without much studying about it, I found
her always upon her guard : she had penetration to see her
absolute power over me, and prudence to make a proper
use of it ; she would neither understand my hints, nor give
me room to come to a direct explanation. She has said
since, that, from the first discovery of my regard, and long
before the thought was agreeable to her, she had often an
unaccountable impression upon her mind, that sooner or

24 LIFE OF BEV. JOHN NEWTON. [24

later she should be mine. Upon these terms we parted.

I now return to my voyage. During our passage to Ma-
deira I was a prey to the most gloomy thoughts. Though
I had well deserved all I met with, and the captain might
have been justified if he had carried his resentment still far-
ther ; yet my pride at that time suggested that I had been
grossly injured : and this so far wrought upon my wicked
heart, that I actually formed designs against his life ; and
this was one reason that made me willing to prolong my
own. I was sometimes divided between the two, not think-
ing it practicable to effect both. The Lord had now, to ap-
pearance, given me up to judicial hardness; I was capable
of any thing. I had not the least fear of God before my
eyes, nor (so far as I remember) the least sensibility of con-
science. I was possessed of so strong a spirit of delusion,
that I believed my own lie, and was firmly persuaded that
after death I should cease to be. Yet the Lord preserved
me ! Some intervals of sober reflection would at times take
place : when I have chosen death rather than life, a ray of
hope would come in (though there was Little probability for
such a hope) that I should yet see better days ; that I might
again return to England, and have my wishes crowned, if I
did not wilfully throw myself away. In a word, my love to

Mrs. N was now the only restraint I had left. Though

I neither feared God, nor regarded men, I could not bear
that she should think meanly of me when I was dead. As,
in the outward concerns of life, the weakest means are often
employed by Divine Providence to produce great effects,
beyond their common influence, (as when a disease, for in-
stance, has been removed by a fright,) so I found it then ;
this single thought, which had not restrained me from a
thousand smaller evils, proved my only and effectual bar-
rier against the greatest and most fatal temptations. How
long I could have supported this conflict, or what, humanly
speaking, would have been the consequences of my con-
tinuing in that situation, I cannot say ; but the Lord, whom
I little thought of, knew my danger, and was providing for
my deliverance.

Two things I had determined when at Plymouth ; that I
would not go to India, and that I would go to Guinea ; and
such, indeed, was the Lord's will concerning me ; but they
were to be accomplished in his way, not in my own. We

25]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

25

had been now at Madeira some time : the business of the
fleet was completed, and we were to sail the following day.
On that memorable morning I was late in bed, and had
slept longer, but that one of the midshipmen (an old com-
panion) came down, and, between jest and earnest, bade
me rise ; and as I did not immediately comply, he cut down
the hammock, or bed, in which I lay ; which forced me to
dress myself. I was very angry, but durst not resent it. I
was little aware how much his caprice affected me ; and that
this person, who had no design in what he did, was the mes-
senger of God's providence. I said little, but went upon
deck, where I that moment saw a man putting his clothes
into a boat, who told me he was going to leave us. Upon
inquiring, I was informed that two men, from a Guinea
ship which lay near us, had entered on board the Harwich,
and that the commodore (Sir George Pocock) had ordered
the captain to send two others in their room. My heart
instantly burned like fire. I begged the boat might be de-
tained a few minutes : I ran to the lieutenants, and intreated
them to intercede with the captain, that I might be dis-
missed. Upon this occasion, though I had been formerly
upon ill terms with these officers, and had disobliged them
all in their turns, they pitied my case, and appeared ready
to serve me. The captain, who, when we were at Ply-
mouth, had refused to exchange me, though at the request
of Admiral Medly, was now easily prevailed on. I believe,
in little more than half an hour from my being asleep in my
bed, I saw myself discharged, and safe on board another
ship. This was one of the many critical turns of my life, in
which the Lord was pleased to display his providence and
care, by causing many unexpected circumstances to concur
in almost an instant of time. These sudden opportunities
were several times repeated ; each of them brought me into
an entire new scene of action, and they were usually de-
layed to almost the last moment in which they could have
taken place.

The ship I went on board was bound to Sierra Leone,
and the adjacent parts of what is called the Windward Coast
of Africa. The commander, I found, was acquainted with
my father : he received me very kindly, and made fair pro-
fessions of assistance, and I believe would have been my
friend ; but without making the least advantage of former

&

26

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[26

mistakes and troubles, I pursued the same course ; nay, if
possible, I acted much worse. On board the Harwich,
though my principles were totally corrupted, yet, as upon
my first going there I was in some degree staid and serious,
the remembrance of this made me ashamed of breaking out
in that notorious manner I could otherwise have indulged.
But now, entering amongst strangers, I could appear without
disguise ; and I well remember, that, while 1 was passing
from the one ship to the other, this was one reason why I
rejoiced in the exchange, and one reflection I made upon
the occasion, namely, " that I now might be as abandoned
as I pleased, without any control;" and from this time I was
exceedingly vile indeed, little, if any thing, short of that ani-
mated description of an almost irrecoverable state, which
we have in 2 Pet. 2 : 14. I not only sinned with a high
hand myself, but made it my study to tempt and seduce
others upon every occasion ; nay, 1 eagerly sought occasion,
sometimes to my own hazard and hurt. One natural conse-
quence of this carriage was, a loss of the favor of my new
captain ; not that he was at all religious, or disliked my
wickedness any further than it affected his interest, but 1
became careless and disobedient : I did not please him, be-
cause I did not intend it ; and as he was a man of an odd
temper likewise, we the more easily disagreed. Besides, I
had a little of that unluckly wit, which can do little more
than multiply troubles and enemies to its possessor ; and,
upon some imagined affront, I made a song, in which I ridi-
culed his ship, his designs, and his person, and soon taught
it to the whole ship's company. Such was the ungrateful
return I made for his offers of friendship and protection. I
had mentioned no names ; but the allusion was plain ; and he
was no stranger either to the intention or the author. I shall
say no more of this part of my story ; let it be buried in eter-
nal silence. But let me not be silent from the praise of that
grace which could pardon, that blood which could expiate
such sins as mine. Yea, " the Ethiopian may change his
skin, and the leopard his spots," since I, who was the willing
slave of every evil, possessed with a legion of unclean spi-
rits, have been spared, and saved, and changed, to stand as
a monument of his almighty power for ever.

Thus I went on for about six months, by which time the
ship was preparing to leave the coast. A few days bef >re

27]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

27

she sailed the captain died. I was not upon much better
terms with his mate, who now succeeded to the command,
and had, upon some occasion, treated me ill. I made no
doubt but if I went with him to the West Indies, he would
put me on board a man-of-war; and this, from what 1 had
known already, was more dreadful to me than death. To
avoid it, I determined to remain in Africa ; and amused my-
self with many golden dreams, that here I should find an
opportunity of improving my fortune.

There are still upon that part of the coast a few white men
settled, (and there were many more at the time I was first
there,) whose business it was to purchase slaves, &c. in the
rivers and country adjacent, and sell them to the ships at an
advanced price. One of these, who at first landed in my in-
digent circumstances, had acquired considerable wealth: he
had lately been in England, and was returning in the vessel
I was in, of which he owned a quarter part. His example
impressed me with hopes of the same success ; and, upon
condition of entering into his service, 1 obtained my dis-
charge. I had not the precaution to make any terms, but
trusted to his generosity. 1 received no compensation for
my time on board the ship, but a bill upon the owners in
England, which was never paid, for they failed before my
return. The day the vessel sailed I landed upon the island
of Benanoes, with little more than the clothes upon my back,
as if I had escaped shipwreck.

LETTER V.

There seems an important instruction, and of frequent
use, in these words of our dear Lord, " Mine hour is not yet
come." The two following years, of which I am now to
give some account, will seem as an absolute blank in a very
short life : but as the Lord's hour of grace was not yet come,
I was to have still deeper experience of the dreadful state of
the heart of man when left to itself. I have seen frequent
cause since to admire the mercy of the Lord, in banishing
me to those distant parts, and almost excluding me from
human society, at a time when I was big with mischief, and,
like one infected with a pestilence, was capable of spreading

38

LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[28

a taint wherever I went. Had my affairs taken a different
turn, had I succeeded in my designs, and remained in Eng-
land, my sad story would probably have been worse. Worse
in myself, indeed, I could hardly have been; but my wick-
edness would have had a greater scope ; I might have been
very hurtful to others, and multiplied irreparable evils. But
the Lord wisely placed me where I could do little harm.
The few I had to converse with were too much like myself,
and I was soon brought into such abject circumstances, that
I was too low to have any influence. I was rather shunned
and despised than imitated ; there being few, even of the
negroes themselves, (during the first year of my residence
among them,) but thought themselves too good to speak to
me. I was as yet an " outcast lying in my blood," (Ezek.
16 : 6.) and, to all appearance, exposed to perish. But the
Lord beheld me with mercy, He did not strike me to hell,
as I justly deserved ; " he passed by me when I was in my
blood, and said unto me, Live." But the appointed time
for the manifestation of his love, to cover all my iniquities
with the robe of his righteousness, and to admit me to the
privileges of his children, was not till long afterward ; yet
even now he bade me live; and I can only ascribe it to his
secret upholding power, that what I suffered in a part of this
interval did not bereave me either of my life or senses :
yet, as by these sufferings the force of my evil example and
inclination was lessened, I have reason to account them
amongst my mercies.

It may not, perhaps, be amiss to digress for a few lines,
and give you a very brief sketch of the geography of the
circuit I was now confined to, especially as I may have fre-
quent occasion to refer to places I shall now mention ; for
my trade afterward, when the Lord gave me to see better
days, was chiefly to the same places, and with the same per-
sons, where and by whom I had been considered as upon a
level with their meanest slaves. From Cape de Verd, the
most western point of Africa, to Cape Mount, the whole
coast is full of rivers ; the principal are, Gambia, Rio Grande,
Sierra Leone, and Sherbro. Of the former, as it is well
known, and I was never there, I need say nothing. The Rio
Grande (like the Nile) divides into many branches near the
sea. On the most northerly, called Cacheo, the Portuguese
have a settlement. The most southern branch, known by

LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

29

the name of Rio Nuna, is, or then was, the usual boundary
of the white men's trade northward. Sierra Leone is a
mountainous peninsula, uninhabited, and, I believe, inacces-
sible, upon account of the thick woods, excepting those
parts which lie near the water. The river is large and navi-
gable. From hence, about twelve leagues to the south-east,
are three contiguous islands, called the Benanoes, about
twenty miles in circuit ; this was about the centre of the
white men's residence. Seven leagues farther, the same
tray, lie the Plantanes, three small islands, two miles dis-
tant from the continent at the point, which forms one side
of the Sherbro. This river is more properly a sound, run-
ning within a long island, and receiving the confluence of
several large rivers, " rivers unknown to song" but far more
deeply engraven in my remembrance than the Po or Tyber.
The southernmost of these has a very peculiar course,
almost parallel to the coast ; so that in tracing it a great
many leagues upward, it will seldom lead one above three
miles, and sometimes not more than half a mile from the
sea-shore. Indeed, I know not but that all these rivers may
have communications with each other, and with the sea in
many places, which I have not remarked. If you cast your
eyes upon a large map of Africa while yon are reading this,
you will have a general idea of the country I was in : for
though the maps are very incorrect, most of the places I
have mentioned are inserted, and in the same order as
I have named them.

My new master had formerly resided near Cape Mount,
but now he settled at the Plantanes, upon the largest of the
three islands. It is a low sandy island, about two miles in
circumference, and almost covered with palm-trees. We
immediately began to build a house, and to enter upon trade.
I had now some desire to retrieve my lost time, and to exert
diligence in what was before me; and he was a man with
whom I might have lived tolerably well, if he had not been
soon influenced against me : but he was much under the
direction of a black woman, who lived with him as a wife.
She was a person of some consequence in her own country,
and he owed his first rise to her interest. This woman
(I know not for what reason) was strangely prejudiced
against me from the first ; and what made it still worse for
me, was a severe fit of illness, which attacked mc very

'SO

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[30

soon, before I had opportunity to show what I could or
would do in his service. I was sick when he sailed in a
shallop to Rio Nuna, and he left me in her hands. At first
I was taken some care of ; but as I did not recover very
soon, she grew weary, and entirely neglected me. I had
sometimes not a little difficulty to procure a draught of cold
water when burning with a fever. My bed was a mat spread
upon a board or chest, and a log of wood my pillow. When
my fever left me, and my appetite returned, I would gladly
have eaten, but there was no one gave unto me. She lived
in plenty herself, but hardly allowed me sufficient to sustain
life, except now and then, when in the highest good humor,
she would send me victuals in her own plate after she had
dined ; and this (so greatly was my pride humbled) I re-
ceived with thanks and eagerness, as the most needy beggar
does an alms. Once, I well remember, I was called to re-
ceive this bounty from her own hand ; but being exceeding
weak and feeble, I dropped the plate. Those who live in
plenty can hardly conceive how this loss touched me ; but
she had the cruelty to laugh at my disappointment ; and
though the table was covered with dishes, (for she lived
much in the European manner,) she refused to give me any
more. My distress has been at times so great as to compel
me to go by night and pull up roots in the plantation,
(though at the risk of being punished as a thief,) which I
have eaten raw upon the spot, for fear of discovery. The
roots I speak of are very wholesome food when boiled or
roasted ; but as unfit to be eaten raw, in any quantity, as a
potatoe. The consequence of this diet, which, after the first
experiment, I always expected, and seldom missed, was the
same as if I had taken tartar emetic ; so that I have often
returned as empty as I went ; yet necessity urged me to
repeat the trial several times. I have sometimes been re-
lieved by strangers ; nay, even by the slaves in the chain,
who have secretly brought me victuals (for they durst not
be seen to do it) from their own slender pittance. Next to
pressing want, nothing sits harder upon the mind than scorn
and contempt ; and of this, likewise, I had an abundant
measure. When I was very slowly recovering, this woman
would sometimes pay me a visit, not to pity or relieve, but
to insult me. She would call me worthless and indolent, and
compel me to walk ; which, when I could hardly do, she

31]

LIFE OF KEV. JOHN NEWTON.

31

would set her attendants to mimic my motion, to clap their
hands, laugh, and throw limes at me ; or, if they chose, to
throw stones; (as I think was the case once or twice;) they
were not rebuked ; but, in general, though all who depended
on her favor must join in her treatment, yet, when she was
out of sight I was rather pitied than scorned by the meanest
of her slaves. At length my master returned from his voyage.
I complained of ill usage; but he could not believe me; and
as I did it in her hearing, I fared no better for it. But in his
second voyage he took me with him. We did pretty well for
awhile, till a brother-trader he met in the river persuaded
him that I was unfaithful, and stole his goods in the night,
or when he was on shore. This was almost the only vice I
could not be justly charged with : the only remains of a
good education 1 could boast of was what is commonly
called honesty ; and, as far as he had entrusted me, I had
been always faithful ; and though my great distress might,
in some measure, have excused it, I never once thought
of defrauding him in the smallest matter. However, the
charge was believed, and I was condemned without evi
dence. From that time he likewise used me very hardly :
whenever he left the vessel I was locked upon deck, with a
pint of rice for my day's allowance ; and if he staid longer,
I had no relief till his return. Indeed, I believe I should
have been nearly starved, but for an opportunity of catching
fish sometimes. When fowls were killed for his own use I
seldom was allowed any part but the entrails, to bait my
hooks with : and at what we call slack water, that is, about
the changing of the tides, when the current was still, I used
generally to fish, (for at other times it was not practicable,)
and I very often succeeded. If I saw a fish upon my hook,
my joy was little less than any other person may have found
in the accomplishment of the scheme he had most at heart.
Such a fish, hastily broiled, or rather half burnt, wiihout
sauce, salt, or bread, has afforded me a delicious meal. If I
caught none, I might (if I could) sleep away my hunger till
the next return of slack water, and then try again. Nor did
I suffer less from the inclemency of the weather and the
want of clothes. The rainy season was now advancing; my
whole suit was a shirt, a pair of trowsers, a cotton hand-
kerchief instead of a cap, and a cotton cloth about two
yards long, to supply the want of upper garments; and thus

32

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[32

accoutred, I have been exposed for twenty, thirty, perhaps
nearly forty hours together, in incessant rains, accompanied
with strong gales of wind, without the least shelter, when
my master was on shore. I feel, to this day, some faint re-
turns of the violent pains I then contracted. The excessive
cold and wet I endured in that voyage, and so soon after I
had recovered from a long sickness, quite broke my consti-
tution and my spirits. The latter were soon restored ; but
the effects of the former still remain with me, as a needful
memento of the service and wages of sin.

In about two months we returned, and then the rest of
the time I remained with him was chiefly spent at the Plan-
tanes, under the same regimen as I have already mentioned.
My haughty heart was now brought down; not to a whole-
some repentance, nor to the language of the prodigal : this
was far from me ; but my spirits were sunk ; I lost all re-
solution, and almost all reflection. I had lost the fierceness
which fired me on board the Harwich, and which made me
capable of the most desperate attempts; but I was no farther
changed than a tiger tamed by hunger: remove the occasion,
and he will be as wild as ever.

One thing, though strange, is most true. Though destitute
of food and clothing, depressed to a degree beyond common
wretchedness, I could sometimes collect my mind to mathe-
matical studies. 1 had bought Barrow's Euclid at Plymouth ;
it was the only volume I brought on shore ; it was always
with me, and I used to take it to remote corners of the
island, by the sea-side, and drew my diagrams with a long
stick upon the sand. Thus I often beguiled my sorrows, and
almost forgot my feeling : and thus, without any other as-
sistance, I made myself, in a good measure, master of the
first six books of Euclid.

LETTER VI.

There is much piety and spirit in the grateful acknow-
ledgment of Jacob, " With my staff I passed over this
Jordan, and now I am become two bands." These are
words which ought to affect me with a peculiar emotion.
I remember that some of those mournful days to which my
last letter refers, I was busied in planting some lime or

33]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

93

lemon-trees. The plants I put in the ground were no longer
than a young gooseberry-bush: my master and his mistress
passing by the place, stopped a while to look at me : at last,
" Who knows," says he, " who knows, but by the time these
trees grow up and bear, you may go home to England, ob-
tain the command of a ship, and return to reap the fruits of
your labors? We see strange things sometimes happen."
This, as he intended it, was a cutting sarcasm. I believe he
thought it full as probable that I should live to be king of
Poland. Yet it proved a prediction, and they (one of them
at least) lived to see me return from England in the capa-
city he had mentioned, and pluck some of the first limes
from those very trees. How can I proceed in my relation,
till I raise a monument to the Divine Goodness, by compar-
ing the circumstances in which the Lord has since placed
me with what I was at that time ! Had you seen me, Sir,
then go, pensive and solitary, in the dead of night, to wash
my one shirt upon the rocks, and afterward put it on wet,
that it might dry upon my back while I slept ; had you seen
me so poor a figure, that when a ship's boat came to the
island shame often constrained me to hide myself in the
woods from the sight of strangers: especially had you known
that my conduct, principles, and heart, were still darker
than my outward condition ; how little would you have
imagined that one who so fully answered to the description
of the apostle, " hateful, and hating one another ;" was re-
served to be so peculiar an instance of the providential care
and exuberant goodness of God ! There was, at that time,
but one earnest desire in my heart, which was not contrary
and shocking both to religion and reason : that one desire,
though my vile licentious life rendered me peculiarly un-
worthy of success, and though a thousand difficulties seemed
to render it impossible, the Lord was pleased to gratify. But
this favor, though great, and greatly prized, was a small
thing, compared to the blessings of his grace : he spared me,
to give me " the knowledge of himself in the person of Jesus
Christ." In love to my soul, he delivered me from the pit
of corruption, and cast all my aggravated sins behind his
back. He brought my feet into the paths of peace. This
is, indeed, the chief article, but it is not >he whole. When
he made me acceptable to himself in the Beloved, he gave
me favor in the sight of others. He raised me new friends,
2*

34

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[34

protected and guided me through a long series of dangers,
and crowned every day with repeated mercies. To him I
owe it, that I am still alive, and that I am not still living in
hunger, and in thirst, and in nakedness, and the want of all
things : into that state I brought myself; but it was He who
delivered me. He has given me an easy situation in life,
some experimental knowledge of his Gospel, a large acquaint-
ance amongst his people, a friendship and correspondence
with several of his most honored servants. But it is as diffi-
cult to enumerate my present advantages, as it is fully to
describe the evils and miseries of the preceding contrast.

I know not exactly how long things continued with me
thus, but I believe nearly a twelvemonth. In this interval
I wrote two or three times to my father : I gave him an ac-
count of my condition, and desired his assistance ; intimat-
ing at the same time, that I had resolved not to return to
England unless he was pleased to send for me. I have like-
wise by me letters written to Mrs. N in that dismal

period : so that at the lowest ebb, it seems, I still retained
a hope of seeing her again. My father applied to his friend
in Liverpool, of whom I have spoken before; who gave
orders accordingly, to a captain of his who was then fit-
ting out for Gambia and Sierra Leone.

Some time within the year, as I have said, I obtained my
master's consent to live with another trader who dwelt upon
the same island. Without his consent I could not be taken ;
and he was unwilling to do it sooner; but it was then brought
about. This was an alteration much to my advantage : I
was soon decently clothed, lived in plenty, was considered
as a companion, and trusted with the care of all his domes-
tic effects, which were to the amount of some thousand
pounds. This man had several factories and white servants
in different places ; particularly one in Kittam, the river I
spoke of, which runs so nearly along the sea-coast. I was
soon appointed to go there, where 1 had a share in the ma-
nagement of business jointly with another of his servants.
We lived as we pleased, business flourished, and our employer
was satisfied. Here I began to he wretch enough to think my-
self happy. There is a significant phrase frequently used in
those parts, That such a white man is grown black. It does
not intend an alteration of complexion, but disposition. I have
known several, who, settling in Africa after the age of thirty

35]

LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

35

or forty, have, at that time of life, been gradually assimilated
to the tempers, customs, and ceremonies of the natives, so
far as to prefer that country to England : they have even
become dupes to all the pretended charms, necromancies,
amulets, and divinations of the blinded negroes, and put
more trust in such things than the wiser sort among the
natives. A part of this spirit of infatuation was growing upon-
me ; (in time, perhaps, I might have yielded to the whole ;)
I entered into closer engagements with the inhabitants ; and
should have lived and died a wretch amongst them, if the
Lord had not watched over me for good. Not that I had
lost those ideas which chiefly engaged my heart to England ;
but despair of seeing them accomplished made me willing to
remain where I was. I thought I could more easiry bear
the disappointment in this situation than nearer home. But
as soon as I had fixed my connections and plans with these
views, the Lord providentially interposed to break them in
pieces, and to save me from ruin in spite of myself.

In the mean time the ship that had orders to bring me
home arrived at Sierra Leone. The captain made inquiry
for me there, and at the Benanoes ; but understanding that
I was at a great distance in the country, he thought no more
about me. Without doubt, the hand of God directed my
being placed at Kittam just at this time; for, as the ship
came no nearer than the Benanoes, and staid but a few days,
if I had been at the Plantanes I could not perhaps have
heard of her till she had sailed. The same must have cer-
tainly been the event had I been sent to any other factory,
of which my new master had several upon different rivers.
But though the place I was at was a long way up a river,
much more than a hundred miles distance from the Plantanes,
yet, by the peculiar situation which I have already noticed,
I was still within a mile of the sea-coast. To make the in-
terposition more remarkable, I was at that very juncture
going in quest of trade, to a place at some distance directly
from the sea ; and should have set out a day or two before,
but that we waited for a few articles from the next ship that
offered, to complete the assortment of goods I was to take
with me. We used sometimes to walk on the beach, in ex-
pectation of seeing a vessel pass by ; but this was very pre-
carious, as at this time the place was not at all resorted to
by ships for trade. Many passed in the night, others kept

30

LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[30

at a considerable distance from the shore. In a word, I do
not know that any one had stopped while I was there,
though some had before, upon observing a signal made
from the shore. In February, 1747, (I know not the exact
day,) my fellow-servant walking down on the beach in the
forenoon, saw a vessel sailing past, and made a smoke in
token of trade. She was already a little beyond the place ;
and as the wind was fair the captain was in some demur
whether to stop or not. However, had my companion been
half an hour later she would have been gone beyond recall ;
but he soon saw her come to an anchor, and went on board
in a canoe ; and this proved the very ship I have spoken of.
One of the first questions he was asked was concerning me ;
and when the captain understood I was so near, he came on
shore to deliver his message. Had an invitation from home
reached me when I was sick and starving at the Plantanes,
I should have received it as life from the dead ; but now, for
the reasons already given, I heard it at first with indifference.
The captain, unwilling to lose me, told a story altogether of
his own framing: he gave me a very plausible account how he
had missed a large packet of letters and papers which he
should have brought with him ; but this he said he was sure of,
having had it from my father's own mouth, as well as from
his employer, that a person lately dead had left me £400 a
year, adding further, that if I was any way embarrassed in
my circumstances, he had express orders to redeem me,
though it should cost one half of his cargo. Every particular
of this was false; nor could I myself believe what he said about
the estate ; but as I had some expectation from an aged re-
lation, I thought a part of it might be true. But I was not
long in suspense ; for though my father's care and desire to
see me had too little weight with me, and would have been
insufficient to make me quit my retreat ; yet the remem-
brance of Mrs. N , the hope of seeing her, and the possi-
bility that accepting this offer might once more put me in a
way of gaining her hand, prevailed over all other considera-
tions. The captain further promised (and in this he kept
his word,) that I should lodge in his cabin, dine at his table,
and be his constant companion, without expecting any ser-
vice from me. And thus I was suddenly freed from a cap-
tivity of about fifteen months. I had neither a thought
nor a desire of this change one hour before it took place.

37]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

37

I embarked with him, and in a few hours lost sight of
Kittam.

How much is their blindness to be pitied who can see
nothing but chance in events of this sort ! So blind and
stupid was I at that time, Lmade no reflection, I sought no
direction in what had happened : like a wave of the sea,
driven with the wind and tossed, I was governed by present
appearances, and looked no farther. But He who is eyes to
the blind was leading me in a way that I knew not.

Now I am in some measure enlightened, I can easily per-
ceive that it is in the adjustment and concurrence of these
seemingly fortuitous circumstances, that the ruling power
and wisdom of God is most evidently displayed in human
affairs. How many such casual events may we remark in
the history of Joseph, which had each a necessary influence
on his ensuing promotion ! If he had not dreamed, or if he
had not told his dream ; if the Midianites had passed by a
day sooner, or a day later ; if they had sold him to any
person but Potiphar ; if his mistress had been a better
woman ; if Pharaoh's officers had not displeased their lord ;
or if any, or all these things had fallen out in any other
manner or time than they did, all that followed had been
prevented ; the promises and purposes of God concerning
Israel, their bondage, deliverance, polity, and settlement,
must have failed : and as all these things tended to, and
centered in Christ, the promised Savior, the desire of all
nations, would not have appeared. Mankind had been still
in their sins, without hope, and the counsels of God's eternal
love in favor of sinners defeated. Thus we may see a con-
nection between Joseph's first dream and the death of our
Lord Christ, with all its glorious consequences. So strong,
though secret, is the concatenation between the greatest and
the smallest events. What a comfortable thought is this to a
believer — to know that, amidst all the various interfering
designs of men, the Lord has one constant design, which he
c.innot, will not, miss, namely, h'rs own glory in the com-
plete salvation of his people ; and that he is wise, and strong,
and faithful, to make even those things which seem contrary
to this design, subservient to promote it. You have al-
lowed me to comment upon my own text ; yet the length
of this observation may need some apology.

38

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[38

LETTER VII.

The ship I was now on board as a passenger, was on a
trading voyage for gold, ivory, dyers' wood, and bees-wax.
It requires a long time to collect a cargo of this sort. The
captain began his trade at Gambia, had been already four
or five months in Africa, and continued there a year, or
thereabouts, after I was with him ; in which time we ranged
the whole coast as far as Cape Lopez, which lies about a
degree south of the equinoctial, and more than a thousand
miles farther from England than the place where I em-
barked. I have little to offer worthy your notice in the
course of this tedious voyage. I had no business to employ
my thoughts, but sometimes amused myself with mathema-
tics : excepting this, my life, when awake, was a course of
most horrid impiety and profaneness. I know not that I
have ever since met so daring a blasphemer : not content
with common oaths and imprecations, I daily invented new
ones; so that I was often seriously reproved by the captain,
who was himself a very passionate man, and not at all cir-
cumspect in his expressions. From the relation I at times
made him of my past adventures, and what he saw of my
conduct, and especially toward the close of the voyage,
when he met with many disasters, he would often tell me
that, to his grief, he had a Jonah on board ; that a curse at-
tended me wherever I went ; and that all the troubles he
met with in the voyage were owing to his having taken me
into the vessel. I shall omit any further particulars, and
after mentioning an instance or two of the Lord's mercy to
me while I was thus defying his power and patience, I
shall proceed to something more worthy your perusal.

Although I lived long in the excess of almost every other
extravagance, I never was fond of drinking ; and my father
has often been heard to say, that while I avoided drunken-
ness, he should still entertain hopes of my recovery. But
sometimes I would promote a drinking-bout, for the sake of
a frolic, as I termed it ; for though I did not love the liquor,
1 was sold to do iniquity, and delighted in mischief. The
last abominable frolic of this sort I engaged in was in the
river Gabon : the proposal and expense were my own. Four
or five of us one evening sat down upon deck, to see who
could hold out longest in drinking geneva and rum alter-

39]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

39

nately : a large sea-shell supplied the place of a glass. I was
very unfit for a challenge of this sort ; for my head was
always incapable of bearing much strong drink. However,
I began, and proposed the first toast, which I well remember
was some imprecation against the person who should start
first. This proved to be myself. My brain was soon fired.
I arose and danced about the deck like a madman ; and
while I was thus diverting my companions my hat went
overboard. By the light of the moon I saw the ship's boat,
and eagerly threw myself over the side to get into her, that
I might recover my hat. My sight in that circumstance
deceived me ; for the boat was not within my reach, as I
thought, but perhaps twenty feet from the ship's side. I was,
however, half overboard, and should in one moment more
have plunged myself into the water, when somebody caught
hold of my clothes behind, and pulled me back. This was
an amazing escape ; for I could not swim if I had been
sober ; the tide ran very strong ; my companions were too
much intoxicated to save me ; and the rest of the ship's
company were asleep. So near was I, to all appearance, of
perishing in that dreadful condition, and sinking into eter-
nity under the weight of my own curse !

Another time, at Cape Lopez, some of us had been in
the woods and shot a buffalo, or wild cow ; we brought a
part of it on board, and carefully marked the place (as I
thought) where we left the remainder. In the evening we
returned to fetch it; but we set out too late. I undertook to
be the guide ; but night coming on before we could reach
the place, we lost our way. Sometimes we were in swamps,
up to the middle in water; and when we recovered dry land,
we could not tell whether we were walking toward the ship,
or wandering farther from her. Every step increased our
uncertainty. The night grew darker, and we were entangled
in inextricable woods, where, perhaps, the foot of man had
never trod before. That part of the country is entirely
abandoned to wild beasts, with which it prodigiously abounds.
We were, indeed, in a terrible case ; having neither light,
food, nor arms, and expecting a tiger to rush from behind
every tree. The stars were clouded, and we had no com-
pass to form a judgment which way we were going. Had
things continued thus, we had probably perished ; but as it
pleased God, no beast came near us ; and after some hours

40

LIFE OF RET. JOHN NEWTON.

[40

perplexity, the ruoon arose, and pointed out the eastern
quarter. It appeared then, as we had expected, that, instead
of drawing nearer to the sea-side, we had been penetrating
into the country ; but by the guidance of the moon we at
length came to the water-side, a considerable distance from
the ship. We got safe on board without any other inconve-
nience than what we suffered from fear and fatigue.

These, and many other deliverances, were all at that
time entirely lost upon me. The admonitions of conscience,
which, from successive repulses, had grown weaker and
weaker, at length entirely ceased ; and for a space of many
months, if not for some years, I cannot recollect that I had
a single check of that sort. At times I have been visited
with sickness, and have believed myself near to death ; but
I had not the least concern about the consequences. In a
word, I seemed to have every mark of final impenitence
and rejection ; neither judgments nor mercies made the
least impression on me.

At length, our business finished, we left Cape Lopez, and
after a few days stay at the island of Annabona, to lay in
provisions, we sailed homeward, about the beginning of
January, 1748. From Annabona to England, without touch-
ing at any intermediate port, is a very long navigation,
perhaps more than seven thousand miles, if we include the
circuit necessary to be made on account of the trade-winds.
We sailed first westward, till near the coast of Brazil, then
northward, to the Banks of Newfoundland, with the usual
variations of wind and weather, and without meeting any
thing extraordinary. On these Banks we stopped half a day
to fish for cod : this was then chiefly for diversion; we had
provisions enough, and little expected those fish (as it after-
ward proved) would be all we should have to subsist on.
We left the Banks March 1, with a hard gale of wind west-
erly, which pushed us fast homeward. I should here ob-
serve that, with the length of this voyage in a hot climate,
the vessel was greatly out of repair, and very unfit to sup-
port stormy weather ; the sails and cordage were likewise
very much worn, and many such circumstances concurred to
render what followed more dangerous. I think it was on the
9th of March, the day before our catastrophe, that I felt a
thought pass through my mind which I had long been a
stranger to. Among the few books we had on board, one

41]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

41

was Stanhope's Thomas & Kempis : I carelessly tiok it up,
as I had often done before, to pass away the time ; but I had
still read it with the same indifference as if it was entirely a
romance. However, while I was reading this time, an in
voluntary suggestion arose in my mind, What if these things
should be true ? I could not bear the force of the inference,
as it related to myself, and therefore shut the book presently
My conscience witnessed against me once more ; and 1 con-
cluded that, true or false, I must abide the consequences of
my own choice. I put an abrupt end to these reflections
by joining in with some vain conversation or other that
came in the way.

But now the Lord's time teas come, and the conviction I
was so unwilling to receive was deeply impressed upon me
by an awful dispensation. I went to bed that night in my
usual security and indifference, but was awakened from a
sound sleep by the force of a violent sea which broke on
board us. So much of it came down below as filled the
cabin I lay in with water. This alarm was followed by a
cry from the deck that the ship was going down, or sinking.
As soon as I could recover myself I essayed to go upon
deck ; but was met upon the ladder by the captain, who de-
sired me to bring a knife with me. While I returned for the
knife another person went up in my room, who was in-
stantly washed overboard. We had no leisure to lament
him ; nor did we expect to survive him long ; for we soon
found the ship was filling with water very fast. The sea
had torn away the upper timbers on one side, and made the
ship a mere wreck in a few minutes. I shall not affect to
describe this disaster in the marine dialect, which would be
understood by few ; and therefore I can give you but a very
inadequate idea of it. Taking in all circumstances, it was
astonishing, and almost miraculous, that any of us survived
to relate the story. We had immediate recourse to the
pumps ; but the water increased against all our efforts : some
of us were set to bailing in another part of the vessel, that
is, to lade it out with buckets and pails. We had but eleven
or twelve people to sustain this service ; and, notwithstand-
ing all we could do, she was full, or very near it : and then,
with a common cargo, she must have sunk of course ; but we
had a great quantity of beeswax and wood on board, which
were specifically lighter than the water ; and as it pleased

42

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

God that we received this shock in the very crisis of the
gale, toward morning we were enabled to employ some
means for our safety, which succeeded be)'ond hope. In
about an hour's time the day began to break, and the wind
abated. We expended most of our clothes and bedding to
stop the leaks ; (though the weather was exceedingly cold,
especially to us who had so lately left a hot climate ;) over
these we nailed pieces of boards, and at last perceived the
water abate. At the beginning of this hurry I was little
affected. I pumped hard, and endeavored to animate myself
and my companions. I told one of them that in a few days
this distress would serve us to talk of over a glass of wine :
but he being a less hardened sinner than myself, replied with
tears, " No, it is too late now." About nine o'clock, being
almost spent with cold and labor, I went to speak with the
captain, who was busied elsewhere ; and just as I was return-
ing from him I said, almost without any meaning, " If this
will not do, the Lord have mercy on us." This (though
spoken with little reflection) was the first desire I had
breathed for mercy for the space of many years. I was in-
stantly struck with my own words, and as Jehu said once,
What hast thou to do with peace ? so it directly occurred,
What mercy can there he for me ? I was obliged to return to
the pump, and there I continued till noon, almost every pass
ing wave breaking over my head ; but we made ourselves
fast with ropes, that we might not be washed away. Indeed,
I expected that every time the vessel descended in the sea,
she would rise no more ; and though I dreaded death now,
and my heart foreboded the worst, if the Scriptures, which I
had long since opposed, were indeed true, yet still I was
but half-convinced, and remained for a space of time in a
sullen frame, a mixture of despair and impatience. I thought
if the Christian religion were true I could not be forgiven ;
and was therefore expecting, and almost, at times, wi >hing,
to know the worst of it.

LETTER VIII.

The 10th (that is, in the present style, the 21st) of March
is a day much to be remembered by me; and I have never

43]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

43

suffered it to pass wholly unnoticed since the year 1748: on
that day the Lord sent from on high and delivered me out
of deep waters. I continued at the pump from three in the
morning till near noon, and then I could do no more. I went
and lay down upon my bed, uncertain, and almost indifferent,
whether I should rise again. In an hour's time I was called ;
and not being able to pump, I went to the helm and steered
the ship till midnight, excepting a short interval for refresh-
ment. I had here leisure and convenient opportunity for
reflection. I began to think of my former religious profes-
sions ; the extraordinary turns in my life ; the calls, warn-
ings, and deliverances I had met with ; the licentious course
of my conversation, particularly my unparalleled effrontery
in making the gospel-history (which I could not then be sure
was false, though I was not as yet assured it was true) the
constant subject of profane ridicule. I thought, allowing the
scripture premises, there never was, nor could be, such a
sinner as myself ; and then, comparing the advantages I had
broken through, I concluded, at first, that my sins were too
great to be forgiven. The scripture likewise seemed to say
the same ; for I had formerly been well acquainted with the
Bible, and many passages, upon this occasion, returned upon
my memory, particularly those awful passages, Prov. 1 :
24—31 ; Heb. 6 : 4—6 ; and 2 Pet. 2 : 20, which seemed
so exactly to suit my case and character as to bring with
them a presumptive proof of a divine original. Thus, as I
have said, I waited with fear and impatience to receive my
inevitable doom. Yet though I had thoughts of this kind,
they were exceedingly faint and disproportionate ; it was
not till long after, (perhaps several years,) till I had gained
some clear views of the infinite righteousness and grace of
Jesus Christ my Lord, that I had a deep and strong appre-
hension of my state by nature and practice : and perhaps till
then I could not have borne the sight. So wonderfully does
the Lord proportion the discoveries of sin and grace ; for
he knows our frame, and that if he were to put forth the
greatness of his power, a poor sinner would be instantly
overwhelmed, and crushed as a moth. But to return : when
I saw, beyond all probability, there was still a hope of respite,
and heard, about six in the evening, that the ship was freed
from water, there arose a gleam of hope ; I thought I saw
the hand of God displayed in our favor : I began to pray.

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[44

I could not utter the prayer of faith : I could not draw near
to a reconciled God, and call him Father. My prayer was
like the cry of the ravens, which yet the Lord does not dis-
dain to hear. I now began to think of that Jesus whom I
had so often derided ; I recollected the particulars of his lifr,
and of his death : a death for sins not his own, but, as I remem-
bered, for the sake of those who in their distress should
put their trust in Him. And now I chiefly wanted evidence.
The comfortless principles of infidelity were deeply riveted,
and I rather wished than believed these things were real
facts. You will please to observe, Sir, that I collect the
strain of the reasonings and exercises of my mind in one
view ; but I do not say that all this passed at one time.
The great question now was, how to obtain faith ? I speak
not of an appropriating faith, (of which I then knew neither
the nature nor necessity,) but how I should gain an assur-
ance that the Scriptures were of divine inspiration, and a
sufficient warrant for the exercise of trust and hope in God.
One of the first helps I received (in consequence of a deter-
mination to examine the New Testament more carefully)
was from Luke, 11:13. I had been sensible that to profess
faith in Jesus Christ when in reality I did not believe his
history, was no better than a mockery pi the heart-searching
God ; but here I found a Spirit spoken of, which was to be
communicated to those who ask it. Upon this I reasoned
thus : If this book is true, the promise in this passage is true
likewise : I have need of that very Spirit by which the whole
was written, in order to understand it aright. He has en-
gaged here to give that Spirit to those who ask. I must
therefore pray for it ; and if it is of God, he will make good
his own word. My purposes were strengthened by John
7: 17. I concluded, from thence, that though I could not
say from my heart that I believed the Gospel, ):et I would
for the present take it for granted, and that by studying it
in this light I should be more and more confirmed in it. If
what I am writing could be perused by our modern infidels,
they would say (for 1 too weH know their manner) that I
was very desirous to persuade myself into this opinion. I
confess I was ; and so would they be, if the Lord should
show them, as he was pleased to show me at that time, the
absolute necessity of some expedient to interpose between n
righteous God and a sinful soul. Upon the gospel-scheme I

45]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

45

saw at least a peradvcnture of hope, but on every other side
1 was surrounded with black, unfathomable despair.

The wind was now moderate, but continued fair, and we
were still drawing nearer to our port. We began to recover
from our consternation, though we were greatly alarmed by
our circumstances. We found that the water having floated
all our moveables in the hold, all the casks of provision had
been beaten to pieces by the violent motion of the ship ; on
the other hand, our live stock, such as pigs, sheep, and
poultry, had been washed overboard in the storm. In effect,
all the provisions we saved, except the fish I mentioned, and
some food of the pulse kind, which used to be given to the
hogs, (and there was but little of this left,) all our other pro-
visions would have subsisted us but a week at scanty allow-
ance. The sails, too, were mostly blown away, so that we
advanced but slowly even while the wind was fair. We
imagined ourselves about a hundred leagues from the land,
but were in reality much farther. Thus we proceeded with
an alternate prevalence of hopes and fears. My leisure time
was chiefly emplo}red in reading and meditating on the
scripture, and praying to the Lord for mercy and instruction.

Things continued thus for four or five days, or perhaps
longer, till we were awakened one morning by the joyful
shouts of the watch upon deck proclaiming the sight of land.
We were all soon raised at the sound. The dawning was
uncommonly beautiful, and the light (just strong enough to
discover distant objects) presented us with a gladdening pros-
pect: it seemed a mountainous coast, about twenty miles
from us, terminating in a Cape, or point; and a little further,
two or three small islands, or hummocks, as just rising out
of the water ; the appearance and position seemed exactly
answerable to our hopes, resembling the north-west ex-
tremity of Ireland, which we were steering for. Wre sincerely
congratulated each other, making no doubt but that, if the
wind continued, we should be in safety and plenty the next
day. We ate up the residue of our bread for joy at this wel-
come sight, and were in the condition of men suddenly re-
prieved from death. While we were thus alert, the mate,
with a graver tone than the rest, sunk our spirits by saying
" that he wished it might prove land at last." If one of the
common sailors had first said so, I know not but the rest
would have beat him for raising such an unreasonable doubt.

46

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[46

It brought on, however, warm debates and disputes, whether
it was land or not ; but the case was soon unanswerably de-
cided, for the day was advancing fast, and in a little time
one of our fancied islands began to grow red from the ap-
proach of the sun, which soon arose just under it. In a word,
we had been prodigal of our bread too hastily ; our land was
nothing but clouds; and in half an hour more the whole ap-
pearance was dissipated. Seamen have often known decep-
tions of this sort, but in our extremity we were very loth
to be undeceived. However, we comforted ourselves that
though we could not see the land yet, we should soon, the
wind hitherto continuing fair. But, alas! we were deprived
of this hope likewise. That very day our fair wind subsided
into a calm, and the next morning the gales sprung up from
the south-east, directly against us, and continued so for more
than a fortnight afterward. The ship was so wrecked that
we were obliged to keep the wind always on the broken side,
unless the weather was quite moderate. Thus we were
driven, by the wind fixing in that quarter, still further from
our port, to the northward of all Ireland, as far as the Lewis,
or western islands of Scotland, but a long way to the west-
ward. In a word, our station was such as deprived us of any
hope of being relieved by other vessels. It may, indeed, be
questioned whether our ship was not the very first that had
been in that part of the ocean at the same season of the year.

Provisions now began to grow very short: the half of a
salted cod was a day's subsistence for twelve people. We
had plenty of fresh water", but no bread, hardly any clothes,
and very cold weather. We had incessant labor with the
pumps to keep the ship above water. Much labor and little
food wasted us fast, and one man died under the hardship.
Yet our sufferings were light in comparison to our just fears.
We could not afford this bare allowance much longer, but had
a terrible prospect of being either starved to death, or reduced
to feed upon one another. Our expectations grew darker
every day ; and I had a further trouble, peculiar to myself.
The captain, whose temper was quite soured by distress,
was hourly reproaching me (as I formerly observed) as the
sole cause of the calamity, and was confident that if I was
thrown overboard, and not otherwise, they should be pre-
served from death. He did not intend to make the experi-
ment; but the continual repetition of this in my ears gave

47]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

47

mc much uneasiness, especially as my conscience seconded
his words; I thought it very probable that all that had be-
fallen us was on my account. I was at last found out by the
powerful hand of God, and condemned in my own breast.
However, proceeding in the method I have described, I be-
gan to conceive hopes greater than all my fears ; especially
when, at the time we were ready to give up all for lost, and
despair was taking place in every countenance, I saw the
wind come about to the very point we wished it, so as best
to suit that broken part of the ship which must be kept out
of the water, and to blow so gentle as our few remaining
sails could bear ; and thus it continued, without any observ-
able alteration or increase, though at an unsettled time of
the year, till we once more were called up to see the land,
and were convinced that it was land indeed. We saw the
island Tory, and the next day anchored in Lough Swilly,
in Ireland. This was the 8th of April, just four weeks after
the damage we sustained from the sea. When we came into
this port our very last victuals were boiling in the pot ; and
before we had been there two hours, the wind, which seemed
to have been providentially restrained till we were in a place
of safety, began to blow with great violence ; so that, if we
had continued at sea that night, in our shattered enfeebled
condition, we must, in all human appearance, have gone to
the bottom. About this time I began to know that there is
a God that hears and answers prayer. How many times has
he appeared for me since this great deliverance ! Yet, alas !
how distrustful and ungrateful is my heart unto this hour.

LETTER IX.

I have brought rny history down to the time of my arrival
in Ireland, 1748; but before I proceed I would look back
a little, to give you some further account of the state of my
mind, and how far I was helped against inward difficulties,
which beset me at the time I had many outward hardships
to struggle with. The straits of hunger, cold, weariness, and
the fears of sinking and starving, I shared in common with
others : but besides these, I felt a heart-bitterness, which
was properly my own ; no one on board but myself being

46

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[48

impressed with any sense of the hand of God in our danger
and deliverance, at least not awakened to any concern for
their souls. No temporal dispensations can reach the heart,
unless the Lord himself applies them. My companions in
danger were either quite unaffected, or soon forgot it all :
but it was not so with me ; not that I was any wiser or better
than they, but because the Lord was pleased to vouchsafe
me peculiar mercy ; otherwise 1 was the most unlikely person
in the ship to receive an impression, having been often be-
fore quite stupid and hardened in the very face of great
dangers, and having always, till this time, hardened my neck
still more and more after every reproof. I can see no reason
why the Lord singled me out for mere}', but this, " that so
it seemed good to him ;" unless it was to show, by one as-
tonishing instance, that " with him nothing is impossible."

There were no persons on board to whom I could open
myself with freedom concerning the state of my soul, none
from whom I could ask advice. As to books, I had a New
Testament, Stanhope, already mentioned, and a volume of
Bishop Beveridge's Sermons, one of which, upon our Lord's
Passion, affected me much. In perusing the New Testament,
I was struck with several passages, particularly that of the
fig-tree, Luke 13; the case of St. Paul, 1 Tim. 1; but par-
ticularly the prodigal, Luke, 15; a case I thought had never
been so nearly exemplified as by myself: and then the good-
ness of the father in receiving, nay, in running to meet such
a son ; and this intended only to illustrate the Lord's goodness
to returning sinners : this gained upon me. J continued much
in prayer; I saw that the Lord had interposed so Jar to save
me ; and I hoped he would do more. The outward circum-
stances helped in this place to make me still more serious
and earnest in crying to Him who alone could relieve me ;
and sometimes I thought I could be content to die even for
want of food, if I might but die a believer. Thus far I was
answered, that before we arrived in Ireland I had a satisfac-
tory evidence in my own own mind of the truth of the gos-
pel, as considered in itself, and its exact suitableness to
answer all my needs. I saw that, by the way there pointed
out, God might declare, not his mercy only, but his justice
also, in the pardon of sin, on account of the obedience and
sufferings of Jesus Christ. My judgment at that time em-
braced the sublime doctrine of "God manifest in the flesh,

49]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

49

reconciling the world to himself." I had no idea of those
systems which allow the Savior no higher honor than that of
an upper servant, or, at the most, a demi->;od. I stood in need
of an almighty Savior, and such a one I found described in
the New Testament. Thus far the Lord had wrought a mar-
vellous thing; I was no longer an infidel; I heartily re-
nounced my former profaneness ; I had taken up some right
notions, was seriously disposed, and sincerely touched with
a sense of the undeserved mercy I had received, in being
brought safe through so many dangers. I was sorry for my
past mispent life, and purposed an immediate reformation :
I was quite freed from the habit of swearing, which seemed
to have been deeply rooted in me as a second nature. Thus,
to all appearance, I was a new man.

But though I cannot doubt that this change, so far as it
prevailed, was wrought by the Spirit and power of God ; yet
still I was greatly deficient in many respects. I was, in some
degree, affected with a sense of my more enormous sins ; but
I was little aware of the innate evils of my heart. I had no
apprehension of the spirituality and extent of the law of God ;
the hidden life of a Christian, as it consists in communion
with God by Jesus Christ; and a continual dcpendance on
him for hourly supplies of wisdom, strength, and comfort,
was a mystery of which I had as yet no knowledge. I ac-
knowledged the Lord's mercy in pardoning what was past,
but depended chiefly upon my own resolution to do better
for the time to come. I had no Christian friend or faithful
minister to advise me that my strength was no more than my
righteousness ; and though I soon began to inquire for se-
rious books, yet, not having spiritual discernment, I frequently
made a wrong choice ; and I was not brought in the way of
evangelical preaching or conversation (except a few times
when I heard but understood not) for six years after this
period. Those things the Lord was pleased to discover to
me gradually. I learned them here a little and there a little,
by my own painful experience, at a distance from the com-
mon means and ordinances, and in the midst of the same
course of evil company and bad examples as I had been
conversant with for some time. From this period I could no
more make a mock at sin, or jest with holy things ; I no
more questioned the truth of Scripture, or lost a sense of the-
rebukes of conscience. Therefore I consider this as the he-

3

50

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[50

ginning of my return to God, or rather of his return to me ;
but I cannot consider myself to have been a believer (in the
full sense of the word) till a considerable time afterward.

I have told you that, in the time of our distress, we had
fresh water in abundance. This was a considerable relief to
us, especially as our spare diet was mostly salt-fish, without
bread ; we drank plentifully, and were not afraid of wanting
water ; yet our stock of this likewise was much nearer to an
end than we expected ; we supposed that we had six large
butts of water on board ; and it was well that we were safe
arrived in Ireland before we discovered that five of them
were empty, having been removed out of their places, and
stove by the violent agitation when the ship was full of
water. If we had found this out while we were at sea, it
would have greatly heightened our distress, as we must have
drunk more sparingly.

While the ship was refitting at Lough Swilly, I repaired
to Londonderry. I lodged at an exceedingly good house,
where I was treated with much kindness, and soon recruited
my health and strength. I was now a serious professor, went
twice a-day to the prayers at church, and was, at times, very
particular and earnest in my private devotion ; but yet, for
want of a better knowledge of myself, and the subtilty of
Satan's temptations, I was soon seduced to forget the vows
of God that were upon me. One day as I was abroad with
the mayor of the city, and some other gentlemen, shooting,
I climbed up a steep bank, and pulling my fowling-piece
after me, as I held it in a perpendicular direction, it went
oflfso near my face as to burn away the corner of my hat.
Thus, when we think ourselves in the greatest safety, we
are no less exposed to danger than when all the elements
seem conspiring to destroy us. The Divine Providence,
which is sufficient to deliver us in our utmost extremity, is
equally necessary to our preservation in the most peaceful
situation.

During our stay in Ireland I wrote home. The vessel I
was in had not been heard of for eighteen months, and was
given up for lost long before. My father had no more ex-
pectation of hearing that I was alive ; but he received my
letter a few days before he left London. He was just going
Governor of York Fort, in Hudson's Bay, from whence he
never returned. He sailed before I landed in England, or

51]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

51

he had purposed to take me with him ; but God designing
otherwise, one liinderance or another delayed us in Ireland
until it was too late. I received two or three affectionate
letters from him, but I never had the pleasure of seeing him
more. I had hopes that, in three years more, I should have
had an opportunity of asking his forgiveness for the uneasi-
ness my disobedience had given him ; but the ship that was
to have brought him home came without him. According
to the best accounts we received, he was seized with the
cramp when bathing, and drowned, a little before her arrival
in the bay. Excuse this digression.

My father, willing to contribute all in his power to my
satisfaction, paid a visit, before his departure, to my friends
in Kent, and gave his consent to the union which had been

so long talked of. Thus, when I returned to , I found

I had only the consent of one person to obtain ; with her I
as yet stood at as great an uncertainty as on the first day I
saw her.

I arrived at Liverpool the latter end of May, 1748, about
the same day that my father sailed from the Nore ; but found
the Lord had provided me another father in the gentleman
whose ship had brought me home. He received me with great
tenderness, and the strongest expressions of friendship and
assistance ; yet no more than he has since made good : for
to him, as the instrument of God's goodness, I owe my all.
Yet it would not have been in the power even of this friend
to have served me effectually, if the Lord had not met with
me on my way home, as I have related. Till then I was like
the man possessed with the legion. No arguments, no per-
suasion, no views of interest, no remembrance of the past, or
regard to the future, could have constrained me within the
bounds of common prudence. But now I was, in some mea-
sure, restored to my senses. My friend immediately offered
me the command of a ship; but, upon mature consideration,
1 declined it for the present. I had been hitherto always
unsettled and careless ; and therefore thought I had better
make another voyage first, and learn to obey, and acquire a
further insight and experience in business, before I ventured
to undertake such a charge. The mate of the vessel I came
home in was preferred to the command of a new ship, and I
engaged to go in the station of mate with him. I made a
short visit to London, &c, which did not fully answer my

52

LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[52

views. I had but one opportunity of seeing Mrs. N , of

which I availed myself very little ; for I was always exceed-
ingly awkward in pleading my own cause in our conversa-
tion. But after my return to Liverpool, I put the question
in such a manner, by letter, that she could not avoid (unless
I had greatly mistaken her) coming to some sort of an ex-
planation. Her answer (though penned with abundance of
caution) satisfied me ; as I collected from it that she was
free from any other engagement, and not unwilling to wait
the event of the voyage I had undertaken. I should be
ashamed to trouble you with these little details, if you had
not yourself desired me.

LETTER X.

My connexions with sea-affairs have often led me to
think, that the varieties observable in Christian experience
may be properly illustrated from the circumstances of a voy-
age. Imagine to yourself a number of vessels, at different
times, and from different places, bound to the same port;
there are some things in which all these would agree — the
compass steered by, the port in view, the general rules of
navigation, both as to the management of the vessel and deter-
mining their astronomical observations, would be the same
in all. In other respects they would differ ; perhaps no two
of them would meet with the same distribution of winds and
weather. Some we see set out with a prosperous gale ; and
when they almost think their passage secured, they are
checked by adverse blasts ; and, after enduring much hard-
ship and danger, and frequent expectations of shipwreck,
they just escape, and reach the desired haven. Others meet
the greatest difficulties at first ; they put forth in a storm,
and are often beaten back ; at length their voyage proves
favorable, and they enter the port with a rich and abundant
entrance. Some are hard beset with cruisers and enemies,
and obliged to fight their way through ; others meet with
little remarkable in their passage. Is it not thus in the
spiritual life 1 All true believers walk by the same rule, and
mind the same things ; the word of God is their compass ;
Jesus is both their polar star and their sun of righteousness ;

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

53

their hearts and faces are all set Sion-ward. Thus far they
are as one body, animated by one spirit ; yet their expe-
rience, formed upon these common principles, is far from
being uniform. The Lord, in his first call, and his follow-
ing dispensations, has a regard to the situation, temper, and
talents of each, and to the particular services or trials he has
appointed them for. Though all are exercised at times, yet
some pass through the voyage of life much more smoothly
than others. But he " who walketh upon the wings of the
wind, and measures the waters in the hollow of his hand,"
will not suffer an)' of whom he has once taken charge to
perish in the storms, though for a season, perhaps, many of
them are ready to give up all*hopes.

We must not, therefore, make the experience of others,
in all respects, a rule to ourselves, nor our own a rule to
others ; yet these are common mistakes, and productive of
many more. As to myself, every part of my case has been
extraordinary. I have hardly met a single instance resem-
bling it. Few, very few, have been recovered from such a
dreadful state ; and the few that have been thus favored
have generally passed through the most severe convictions ;
and after the Lord has given them peace, their future lives
have been usually more zealous, bright, and exemplary than
common. Now, as on the one hand, my convictions were
very moderate, and far below what might have been expect-
ed from the dreadful review I had to make ; so, on the
ether, my first beginnings in a religious course were as faint
as can be well imagined. I never knew that season alluded
to, Jer. 2:2; Rev. 2 : 4, usually called the time of the first
love. Who would not expect to hear that, after such a won-
derful unhoped-for deliverance as I had received, and after
my eyes were in some measure enlightened to see things
aright, I should immediately cleave to the Lord and his
ways with full purpose of heart, and consult no more with
flesh and blood? But, alas! it was far otherwise with me.
I had learned to pray ; I set some value upon the word of
God, and was no longer a libertine : but my soul still cleaved
to the dust. Soon after my departure from Liverpool I be-
gan to intermit, and grow slack in waiting upon the Lord ;
1 grew vain and trifling in my conversation ; and though my
heart smote me often, yet my armor was gone, and I de-
clined fast ; and by the time I arrived at Guinea I seemed

54

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[54

to have forgot all the Lord's mercies, and my own engage-
ments, and was (profaneness excepted) almost as bad as be-
fore. The enemy prepared a train of temptations, and I
became his easy prey ; and, for about a month, he lulled me
asleep in a course of evil, of which, a few months before, I
could not have supposed myself any longer capable. How
much propriety is there in the apostle's advice, " Take heed,
lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin !"
O, who can be sufficiently upon their guard ! Sin first de-
ceives, and then it hardens. I was now fast bound in chains ;
1 had little desire, and no power at all, to recover myself.
I could not but at times reflect how it was with me ; but if
I attempted to struggle with it, it was in vain. I was just
like Samson when he said, " I will go forth and shake my-
self as at other times ;" but the Lord was departed, and he
found himself helpless in the hands of his enemies. By the
remembrance of this interval, the Lord has often instructed
me since, what a poor creature I am in myself, incapable of
standing a single hour without continual fresh supplies of
strength and grace from the fountain-head.

At length the Lord, whose mercies are infinite, interposed
in my behalf. My business in this voyage, while upon the
coast, was to sail from place to place in the long-boat, to
purchase slaves. The ship was at Sierra Leone, and I then
at the Plantanes, the scene of my former captivity, where
every thing I saw might seem to remind me of my ingrati-
tude. I was in easy circumstances, courted by those who
formerly despised me : the lime-trees 1 had planted were
growing tall, and promised fruit the following year ; against
which time I had expectations of returning with a ship of
my own. But none of these things affected me, till, as I
have said, the Lord again interposed to save me. He visited
me with a violent fever, which broke the fatal chain, and
once more brought me to myself. But, O what a prospect !
I thought myself now summoned away. My past dangers
and deliverances, my earnest prayers in the time of trouble,
my solemn vows before the Lord, and my ungrateful returns
for all his goodness, were all present to my mind at once.
Then I began to wish that the Lord had suffered me to sink
into the ocean when I first besought his mercy. For a little
while I concluded the door of hope to be quite shut ; but this
rontinued not long. Weak, and almost delirious, I arose

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LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

55

from my bed, and crept to a retired part of the island ; and
here I found a renewed liberty to pray. I durst make no
more resolves, but cast myself before the Lord, to do with
me as he should please. I do not remember that any parti-
cular text or remarkable discovery was presented to my
mind ; but, in general, I was enabled to hope and believe
in a crucified Savior. The burden was removed from my
conscience, and not only my peace but my health was re-
stored ; I cannot say instantaneously ; but I recovered from
that hour; and so fast that when I returned to the ship, two
days afterward, I was perfectly well before I got on board.
And from that time, I trust, I have been delivered from the
power and dominion of sin ; though, as to the effects and con-
flicts of sin dwelling in me, I still " groan, being burdened."
I now began again to wait upon the Lord ; and though I have
often grieved his Spirit, and foolishly wandered from him
since, (when, alas, shall I be more wise !) yet his powerful
grace has hitherto preserved me from such black declensions
as this I have last recorded: and I humbly trust in his mercy
and promises, that he will be my guide and guard to the end.

My leisure hours in this voyage were chiefly employed in
learning the Latin language, which I had now entirely forgot.
This desire took place from an imitation I had seen of one
of Horace's odes in a magazine I began the attempt under
the greatest disadvantages possible ; for I pitched upon a
poet, perhaps the most difficult of the poets, even Horace
himself, for my first book. I had picked up an old English
translation of him, which, with Castalio's Latin Bible, were
all my help. I forgot a Dictionary, but I would not there-
fore give up my purpose. I had the edition in usum Delphini;
and, by comparing the odes with the interpretation, and
tracing the words, I could understand from one place to an-
other by the index, with the assistance I could get from the
Latin Bible : in this way, by dint of hard industry, often
waking when I might have slept, I made some progress be-
fore I returned, and not only understood the sense and
meaning of many odes, and some of the Epistles, but began
to relish the beauties of the composition, and acquired a spice
of what Mr. Law calls classical enthusiasm. And indeed, by
this means, I had Horace more in my mind than some who
are masters of the Latin tongue ; for my helps were so few,
that I generally had the passage fixed in my memory before
I could fully understand its meaning.

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[56

My business in the long-boat, during the eight months
we were upon the Coast, exposed me to innumerable dan-
gers and perils, from burning suns and chilling dews, winds,
rains, and thunder-storms, in the open boat ; and on shore,
from long journeys through the woods, and the temper of
the natives, who are in many places cruel, treacherous, and
watching opportunities for mischief. Several boats in the
same time were cut off, several white men poisoned, and in
my own boat, I buried six or seven people with fevers.
When going on shore, or returning from it, in their little
canoes, I have been more than once or twice overset by the
violence of the surf, or breach of the sea, and brought to
land half-dead (for I could not swim.) An account of such
escapes as I still remember, would swell to several sheets,
and many more I have perhaps forgot : I shall only select
one instance, as a specimen of that wonderful providence
which watched over me for rood, and which, I doubt not,
you will think worthy of notice.

When our trade was finished, and we were near sailing
to the West Indies, the only remaining service I had to per-
form in the boat, was to assist in bringing the wood and wa-
ter from the shore. We were then at Rio Cestors. I used
to go into the river in the afternoon with the sea-breeze,
procure my loading in tho evening, and return on board
in the morning with the land-wind. Several of these little
voyages I had made ; but the boat was become old, and al-
most unfit for use. This service likewise was almost com-
pleted. One day, having dined on board, I was preparing
to return to the river as formerly : I had taken leave of the
captain, received his orders, was ready in the boat, and
just going to put off, as we term it? that is, to let go our
ropes, and sail from the ship. In that instant the captain
came up from the cabin, and called me on board again. I
went, expecting further orders; but he said, that he took it
in his head (as he phrased it) that I should remain that day
in the ship ; and accordingly ordered another man to go in
my room. I was surprised at this, as the boat had never
been sent away without me before, and asked him the rea-
son ; he could give me no reason but as above, that so he
would have it. Accordingly the boat went without me ; but
returned no more : she sunk that night in the river, and the
person who had supplied my place was drowned. I was

57]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

57

much struck when we received news of the event the next
morning. The captain himself, though quite a stranger to
religion, so far as to deny a particular providence, could
not help being affected ; but he declared that he had no other
reason for countermanding me at that time, but that it came
suddenly into his mind to detain me.

LETTER XI.

A few days after I was thus wonderfully saved from an
unforeseen danger, we sailed for Antigua, and from thence
proceeded to Charleston, in South Carolina. In this place
there are many serious people ; but I knew not where to
find them out : indeed I was not aware of a difference, but
supposed that all who attended public worship were good
Christians. I was as much in the dark about preaching, not
doubting but whatever came from the pulpit must be very
good. I had two or three opportunities of hearing a dissent-
ing minister, named Smith, who, by what I have known
since, I believe to have been an excellent and powerful
preacher of the Gospel ; and there was something in his
manner that struck me, but I did not rightly understand
him. The best words that men can speak are ineffectual
till explained and applied by the Spirit of God, who alone
can open the heart. It pleased the Lord, for some time,
that I should learn no more than what he enabled me to col-
lect from my own experience and reflection. My conduct
was now very inconsistent. Almost every day, when busi-
ness would permit, I used to retire into the woods and fields
(for these, when at hand, have always been my favorite
oratories,) and I trust I began to taste the sweets of com-
munion with God in the exercises of prayer and praise;
and yet I frequently spent the evenings in vain and worth-
less company. Indeed my relish for worldly diversions was
much weakened, and I was rather a spectator than a sharer
in their pleasures : but I did not as yet see the necessity of
an absolute forbearance. Yet as my compliance with cus-
tom and company was chiefly owing to want of light, rather
than to an obstinate attachment, and the Lord was pleased
to preserve me, in some good degree, I trust, from what I

3*

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[58

knew was sinful, I had, for the most part, peace of conscience,
and my strongest desires were toward the things of God.
As yet I knew not the force of that precept, " Abstain from
all appearance of evil ;" but very often ventured upon the
brink of temptation ; but the Lord was gracious to my weak-
ness, and would not suffer the enemy to prevail against me.
I did not break with the world at once, (as might in my
case have been expected) but I was gradually led to see the
inconvenience and folly of one thing after another ; and
when I saw it, the Lord strengthened me to give it up. But
it was some years before I was set quite at liberty from oc-
casional compliances in many things, in which at this time
I durst by no means allow myself.

We finished our voyage, and arrived in Liverpool. "When
the ship's affairs were settled, I went to London, and from
thence (as you may suppose) I soon repaired to Kent.
More than seven years had now elapsed since my first visit.
No views of the kind could seem more chimerical, or could
subsist under greater discouragements than mine had done ;
yet, through the overruling goodness of God, while I seemed
abandoned to myself, and blindly following my own head-
strong passions, I was guided by a hand that 1 knew not, to
the accomplishment of my wishes. Every obstacle was now
removed. I had renounced my former follies, my interest
was established, and friends on all sides consenting, the
point was now entirely between ourselves ; and after what
had passed, was easily concluded. Accordingly our hands
were joined on the 1st of February, 1750.

The satisfaction I have found in this union, you will sup-
pose has been greatly heightened by reflection on the former
disagreeable contrasts I had passed through, and the views
I have had of the singular mercy and providence of the
Lord in bringing it to pass. If you please to look back to
the beginning of my sixth letter, I doubt not but you will
allow, that few persons have known more, either of the mi-
sery or happiness of which human life (as considered in it-
self) is capable. How easily, at a time of life when I was
so little capable of judging, (but a few months more than
seventeen,) might my affections have been fixed where they
could have met with no return, or where success would have
been the heaviest disappointment. The long delay I met
with was likewise a mercy ; for had I succeeded a year or

59]

LIFE OF REV. J©HN NEWTON.

59

two sooner, before the Lord was pleased to change my heart,
we must have been mutually unhappy, even as to the pre-
sent life. " Surely mercy and goodness have followed me
all my days !"

But, alas ! I soon began to feel that my heart was still
hard and ungrateful to the God of my life. This crowning
mercy, which raised me to all I could ask or wish in a tem-
poral view, and which ought to have been an animating mo-
tive to obedience and praise, had a contrary effect. I rested
in the gift, and forgot the Giver. My poor narrow heart was
satisfied. A cold and careless frame, as to spiritual things,
took place, and gained ground daily. Happily for me the
season was advancing, and in June I received orders to re-
pair to Liverpool. This roused me from my dream. I
need not tell you that 1 found the pains of absence and sepa-
ration fully proportioned to my preceding pleasure. It was
hard, very hard, to part, especially as conscience interfered,
and suggested to me how little I deserved that we should be
spared to meet again. But the Lord supported me. I was
a poor, faint, idolatrous creature ; but I had now some ac-
quaintance with the way of access to a throne of grace by
the blood of Jesus ; and peace was soon restored to my
conscience. Yet, through all the following voyage, my irre-
gular and excessive affections were as thorns in my eyes,
and often made my other blessings tasteless and insipid.
But He who doth all things well over-ruled this likewise
for good. It became an occasion of quickening me in prayer
both for my wife and myself; it increased my indifference
for company and amusement ; it habituated me to a kind of
voluntary self-denial, which I was afterward taught to im-
prove to a better purpose.

While I remained in England we corresponded every
post ; and all the while I used the sea afterward, I constant-
ly kept up the practice of writing two or three times a-week,
(if weather and business permitted,) though no conveyance
homeward offered for six or eight months together. My
packets were usually heavy ; and as not one of them at any
time miscarried, I have to the amount of nearly 200 sheets
of paper now lying in my bureau of that correspondence.
I mention this little relief by which I contrived to soften
the intervals of absence, because it had a good effect beyond
my first intention. It habituated me to think and write upon

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[60

a great variety of subjects ; and I acquired, insensibly, a
greater readiness of expressing myself than I should other-
wise have attained. As I gained more ground in religious
knowledge, my letters became more serious ; and, at times,
I still find an advantage in looking them over; especially as
they remind me of many providential incidents, and the
state of my mind at different periods in these voyages,
which would otherwise have escaped my memory.

I sailed from Liverpool in August, 1750, commander of
a good ship. I have no very extraordinary events to re-
count from this period, and shall therefore contract my me-
moirs, lest I become tedious : yet I am willing to give you
a brief sketch of my history down to 1755, the year of my
settlement in my present situation. I had now the com-
mand and care of thirty persons; I endeavored to treat
them with humanity, and to set them a good example : I
likewise established public worship, twice every Lord's-day,
officiating myself. Farther than this I did not proceed while
I continued in that emplo3'ment.

Having now much leisure, I prosecuted the study of the
Latin with good success. I took a dictionary this voyage,
and procured two or three other books ; but still it was my
hap to choose the hardest. 1 added Juvenal to Horace ; and,
for prose authors, I pitched upon Livy, Cfesar, and Sallust.
You will easily conceive, Sir, that I had hard work to begin
(where I should have left off) with Horace and Livy. I
was not aware of the difference of style : I had heard Livy
highly commended, and was resolved to understand him. I
began with the first page, and laid down a rule, which I
seldom departed from, not to proceed to a second period
till I understood the first, and so on. I was often at a stand,
but seldom discouraged : here and there I found a few lines
quite obstinate, and was forced to break in upon my rule,
and give them up, especially as my edition had only the
text, without any notes to assist me. But there were not
many such ; for before the close of that voyage I could
(with a few exceptions) read Livy from end to end, almost
as readily as an English author. And I found, in surmount-
ing this difficulty, I had surmounted all in one. Other prose
authors, when they came in my way, cost me little trouble.
In short, in the space of two or three voyages I became to-
lerably acquainted with the best classics ; (I put all I have to

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

61

say upon this subject together ;) I read Terence, Virgil, and
several pieces of Cicero, and the modern classics, Buchanan,
Erasmus, and Cassimir. At length I conceived a design of
becoming a Ciceronian myself, and thought it would be a fine
thing indeed to write pure and elegant Latin. I made some
essays toward it, but by this time the Lord was pleased to
draw me nearer to himself, and to give me a fuller view of
the " pearl of great price," the inestimable treasure hid in
the field of the Holy Scriptures ; and, for the sake of this, I
was made willing to part with all my newly-acquired riches.
1 began to think that life was too short (especially my life)
to admit of leisure for such elaborate trifling. Neither poet
nor historian could tell me a word of Jesus, and I therefore
applied myself to those who could. The classics were at
first restrained to one morning in the week, and at length
quite laid aside. I have not looked into Livy these five
years, and I suppose I could not now well understand him.
Some passages in Horace and Virgil I still admire ; but they
seldom come in my way. I prefer Buchanan's Psalms to a
whole shelf of Elzevirs. But this much I have gained — and
more than this I am not solicitous about — so much of the
Latin as enables me to read any useful or curious book that
is published in that language. About the same time, and
for the same reason, that I quarrelled with Livy, I laid aside
the mathematics. I found they not only cost me much time,
but engrossed my thoughts too far; my head was literally
full of schemes. I was weary of cold, contemplative truths,
which can neither warm nor amend the heart, but rather
tend to aggrandize self. I found no traces of this wisdom in
the life of Jesus or the writings of Paul. I do not regret that-
I have had some opportunities of knowing the first principles
of these things ; but I see much cause to praise the Lord that
he inclined me to stop in time; and, whilst I was " spending
my labour for that which is not bread," was pleased to set be-
fore me " wine and milk, without money and without price."

My first voyage was fourteen months, through various
scenes of danger and difficulty, but nothing very remarkable ;
and as I intend to be more particular with rqgard to the
second, I shall only say, that I was preserved from every
harm ; and having seen many fall on my right hand and on
my left, I was brought home in peace, and restored to where
my thoughts had been often directed, November 2, 1751.

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LIFE OF RET. JOHN NEWTON.

[62

LETTER XII.

I almost wish I could recall my last sheet, and retract
my promise. I fear I have engaged too far, and shall prove
a mere Egotist. Whcit have I more that can deserve your
notice'? However, it is some satisfaction that I am now
writing to yourself only ; and I believe you will have can-
dor to excuse what nothing but a sense of your kindness
could extort from me.

Soon after the period where my last closes, that is, in
the interval between my first and second voyage after my
marriage, I began to keep a sort of diary ; a practice which
I have since found of great use. I had in this interval re-
peated proofs of the ingratitude and evil of my heart. A life
of ease in the midst of my friends, and the full satisfaction
of my wishes, was not favorable to the progress of grace,
and afforded cause of daily humiliation. Yet, upon the
whole, I gained ground. I became acquainted with books
which gave me a farther view of Christian doctrine and ex-
perience ; particularly, ScougaWs Life of God in the Sovl
of Man, Hervey's Meditations, and the Life of Colonel Gar-
diner. As to preaching, I heard none but the common sort,
and had hardly an idea of any better ; neither had I the ad-
vantage of Christian acquaintance. I was likewise greatly
hindered by a cowardly reserved spirit ; I was afraid of be-
ing thought precise ; and though I could not live without
prayer, I durst not propose it even to my wife, till she her-
self first put me upon it ; so far was I from those expres-
sions of zeal and love which seem so suitable to the case of
one who has had much forgiven. In a few months the re-
turning season called me abroad again, and I sailed from
Liverpool in a new ship, July, 1752.

A seafaring life is necessarily excluded from the benefit
of public ordinances and Christian communion : but, as I
have observed, my loss upon these heads was at this time
but small. In other respects, I know not any calling that
seems more favorable, or affords greater advantages to an
awakened mind, for promoting the life of God in the soul :
especially to a person who has the command of a ship, and
thereby has it in his power to restrain gross irregularities in
others, and to dispose of his own time ; and still more so in
African voyages, as these ships carry a double proportion

63]

LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTOX.

03

of men and officers to most others, which made my depart-
ment very easy ; and, excepting the hurry of trade, &c^
upon the coast, which is rather occasional than constant,
afforded me abundance of leisure. To be at sea in these
circumstances, withdrawn out of the reach of innumerable
temptations, with opportunity and turn of mind disposed to
observe the wonders of God in the great deep ; with the two
noblest objects of sight, the expanded heavens, and the ex-
panded ocean, continually in view ; and where evident in-
terpositions of Divine Providence, in answer to prayer,
occur almost every day; these are helps to quicken and
confirm the life of faith, which, in a good measure, supply
to a religious sailor the want of those advantages which can
be enjoyed only upon the shore. And, indeed, though my
knowledge of spiritual things, as knowledge is usually esti-
mated, was at this time very small, yet I sometimes look
back with regret upon these scenes. I never knew sweeter or
more frequent hours of divine communion than in my last
two voyages to Guinea, when I was either almost secluded
from society on shipboard, or when on shore amongst the
natives. I have wandered through the woods, reflecting on
the singular goodness of the Lord to me, in a place where,
perhaps, there was not a person that knew him for some
thousand miles round me. Many a time, upon these occa-
sions, I have restored the beautiful lines of Propcrtius to
their right owner; lines full of blasphemy and madness when
addressed to a creature, but full of comfort and propriety in
the mouth of a believer.

Sic ego desertis possim bene vivere sylvls,
Q,uo nulla humano sit via trita pede:
Tu mibi curarum requies, in nocte vel atra
Lumen, et in solis tu mini turba locis.

PARAPHRASED.

In desert woods, with thee, my God,
Where human footsteps never trod,

How happy could I be ;
Thou my repose from care, my light
Amidst the darkness of the night,
In solitude my company.

In the course of this voyage I was wonderfully preserved
in the midst of many obvious and many unforeseen dangers.

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LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[64

At one time there was a conspiracy amongst my own people
to turn pirates, and take the ship from me. When the plot
was nearly ripe, and they waited only a convenient oppor-
tunity, two of those concerned in it were taken ill in one day :
one of them died, and he was the only person I buried while
on board. This suspended the affair, and opened a way to
its discovery, or the consequence might have been fatal.
The slaves on board were likewise frequently plotting in-
surrections, and were sometimes upon the very brink of
mischief; but it was always disclosed in due time. When
I have thought myself most secure, I have been suddenly
alarmed with danger ; and when I have almost despaired of
life, as sudden a deliverance has been vouchsafed me. My
stay upon the coast was long, the trade very precarious ;
and, in pursuit of my business, both on board and on shore,
I was in deaths often. Let the following instance serve as
a specimen :

I was at a place called Mana, near Cape Mount, where I
had transacted very large concerns ; and had, at the time I
am speaking of, some debts and accounts to settle which
required my attendance on shore, and I intended to go the
next morning. When I arose I left the ship, according to
my purpose, but when I came near the shore, the surf, or
breach of the sea, ran so high that I was almost afraid to
attempt landing: indeed I had often ventured at a worse
time ; but I felt an inward hinderance and backwardness,
which I could not account for : the surf furnished a pretext
for indulging it ; and after waiting and hesitating for about
half an hour, I returned to the ship, without doing my busi-
ness ; which I think I never did but that morning in all the
time I used that trade. But I soon perceived the reason of
all this : It seems, the day before I intended to land, a scan-
dalous and groundless charge had been laid against me, (by
whose instigation I could never learn,) which greatly threat-
ened my honor and interest, both in Africa and England,
and would, perhaps, humanly speaking, have affected my
life, if I had landed according to my intention. I shall,
perhaps, inclose a letter which will give a full account of
this strange adventure ; and therefore shall say no more of
it here, any further than to tell you that an attempt, aimed
to destroy either my life or character, and which might, very
probably, in its consequences, have ruined my voyage,

65]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

63

passed off without the least inconvenience. The person most
concerned owed me about a hundred pounds, which he sent
me in a huff ; and otherwise, perhaps, would not have paid
me at all. 1 was very uneasy tor a few hours, but was soon
afterward comforted. I heard no more of my accusation
till the next voyage; and then it was publicly acknowledged
to be a malicious calumny, without the least shadow of a
ground.

Such were the vicissitudes and difficulties through which
the Lord preserved me. Now and then both faith and pa-
tience were sharply exercised ; but suitable strength was
given ; and as such things did not occur every day, the study
of the Latin, of which I gave a general account in my last,
was renewed, and carried on from time to time when busi-
ness would permit. I was mostly very regular in the ma-
nagement of my time ; I allotted eight hours for sleep and
meals, eight hours for exercise and devotion, and eight hours
to my books: and thus, by diversifying my engagements,
the whole day was agreeably filled up ; and I seldom found
a day too long, or an hour to spare. My studies kept me
employed ; and so far it was well ; otherwise they were
hardly worth the time they cost, as they led me to an ad-
miration of false models and false maxims ; an almost un-
avoidable consequence (I suppose) of an admiration of classic
authors. Abating what I have attained of the language, I
think I might have read Cassandra or Cleopatra to as good
purpose as I read Livy, whom I now account an equal
romancer, though in a different way.

From the coast I went to St. Christopher's ; and here my
idolatrous heart was its own punishment. The letters I ex-
pected from Mrs. Newton were by mistake forwarded to
Antigua, which had been at first proposed as our port. As
I was certain of her punctuality in writing, if alive, I con-
cluded, by not hearing from her, that she was surely dead.
This fear affected me more and more ; I lost my appetite
and rest ; I felt an incessant pain in my stomach ; and in
about three weeks time I was near sinking under the weight
of an imaginary stroke. 1 felt some severe symptoms of
that mixture of pride and madness which is commonly called
a broken heart ; and indeed I wonder that this case is not
more common than it appears to be. How often do the
potsherds of the earth presume to contend with their Maker.'

66

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[66

and what a wonder of mercy is it that they are not all
broken! However, my complaint was not all grief; con-
science had a share. I thought my unfaithfulness to God
had deprived me of her, especially my backwardness in
speaking of spiritual things, which I could hardly attempt,
even to her. It was this thought, that I had lost invaluable,
irrecoverable opportunities, which both duty and affection
should have engaged me to improve, that chiefly stung me ;
and I thought I would have given the world to know that
she was living, that I might at least discharge my engage-
ments by writing, though I was never to see her again. This
was a sharp lesson ; but I hope it did me good ; and when
I had thus suffered some weeks, I thought of sending a
small vessel to Antigua. I did so ; and she brought me
several packets; which restored my health and peace, and
gave me a strong contrast of the Lord's goodness to me,
and my unbelief and ingratitude toward him.

In August, 1753, I returned to Liverpool. My stay was
very short at home that voyage — only six weeks. In that
space nothing very memorable occurred ; I shall therefore
begin my next with an account of my third and last voyage.
And thus I give both you and myself hopes of a speedy
period to these memoirs, which begin to be tedious and
minute, even to myself ; only I am animated by the thought
that I write at your request ; and have therefore an oppor-
tunity of showing myself Yours, &c.

LETTER XIII.

My third voyage was shorter and less perplexed than
either of my former. Before I sailed I met with a young
man who had formerly been a midshipman, and my intimate
companion on board the Harwich. He was, at the time I
first knew him, a sober youth ; but I had found too much
success in my unhappy attempts to infect him with libertine
principles. When we met at Liverpool, our acquaintance
was renewed upon the ground of our former intimacy. He
had good sense, and had read many good books. Our con-
versation frequently turned upon religion ; and I was very
desirous to repair the mischief I had done him. I gave him

67]

LIFE OF UEV. JOHN NEWTON.

6?

a plain account of the manner and reason of my change,
and used every argument to persuade him to relinquish his
infidel- schemes ; and when I sometimes pressed him so
close that he had no other reply to make, he would remind
mc that I was the very first person who had given^him an
idea of his liberty. This occasioned me many mournful re-
flections. He was then going master to Guinea himself;
but before his ship was ready his merchant became a bank-
rupt, which disconcerted his voyage. As he had no farther
expectations for that year, I offered to take him with me as
a companion, that he might gain a knowledge of the coast;
and the gentleman who employed me promised to provide
for him upon his return. My view in this was not so much
to serve him in his business, as to have an opportunity of
debating the point with him at leisure ; and I hoped, in the
course of my voyage, my arguments, example, and prayers,
might have some good effect on him. My intention in this
step was better than my judgment; and I had frequent
reason to repent it. He was exceedingly profane, and grew
worse and worse. I saw in him a most livelv picture of
what I had once been ; but it was very inconvenient to have
it always before my eyes. Besides, he was not only deaf
to my remonstrances himself, but labored all he could to
counteract my influence upon others. His spirit and pas-
sions were likewise exceedingly high; so that it required all
my prudence and authority to hold him in any degree of re-
straint. He was as a sharp thorn in my side for some time ;
but at length I had an opportunity upon the coast of buying
a small vessel, which I supplied with a cargo from my own,
and gave him the command, and sent him away to trade on
the ship's account. When we parted, I repeated and en-
forced my best advice. I believe his friendship and regard
were as great as could be expected, when our principles
were so diametrically opposite. He seemed greatly affected
when I left him: but my words had no weight with him;
when he found himself at liberty from under my eye, he
gave a hasty loose to every appetite ; and his violent irre-
gularities, joined to the heat of the climate, soon threw hirn
into a malignant fever, which carried him off in a few days.
He died convinced, but not changed. The accounts I had
from those who were with him were dreadful. His rage and
despair struck them all with horror ; and he pronounced his

68

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

own fatal doom before he expired, without any appearance
that he either hoped or asked for mercy. I thought this awful
contrast might not be improper to give you, as a stronger
view of the distinguishing goodness of God to me, the chief
of sinners.

I left the coast in about four months, and sailed for St.
Christopher's. Hitherto I had enjoyed a perfect state of
health, equally in every climate, for several years ; but upon
this passage I was visited with a fever, which gave me a
very near prospect of eternity. I have obtained liberty to
inclose you three or four letters, which will more clearly
illustrate the state and measure of my experience at different
times, than any thing I can say at present. One of them,
you will find, was written at this period, when I could hardly
hold a pen, and had some reason to believe I should write
no more. I had not that " full assurance" which is so de-
sirable at a time when flesh and heart fail ; but my hopes
were greater than my fears; and I felt a silent composure of
spirit, which enabled me to wait the event without much
anxiety. My trust, though weak in degree, was alone fixed
upon the blood and righteousness of Jesus ; and those words,
" He is able to save to the uttermost," gave me great relief.
I was for a while troubled with a very singular thought ;
whether it was a temptation, or that the fever disordered my
faculties, I cannot say; but I seemed not so much afraid of
wrath and punishment, as of being lost and overlooked
amidst the myriads that are continually entering the unseen
world. What is my soul, thought I, amongst such an innu-
merable multitude of beings? and this troubled me greatly.
Perhaps the Lord will take no notice of me. I was per-
plexed thus for some time ; but at last a text of Scripture,
very apposite to the case, occurred to my mind, and put an
end to the doubt. " The Lord knoweth them that are his."
In about ten days, beyond the hope of those about me, I
began to amend ; and by the time of our arrival in the West-
Indies I was perfectly recovered. I hope this visitation was
made useful to me.

Thus far, that is, for about the space of six years, the Lord
was pleased to lead me in a secret way. I had learned some-
thing of the evil of my heart ; I had read the Bible over
and over, with several good books, and had a general view
of gospel-truths; but my conceptions were, in many respects,

69]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

09

confused, not having in all this time met with one acquaint-
ance who could assist my inquiries. But upon my arrival
at St. Christopher's, on this voyage, I found a captain of a
ship from London whose conversation was greatly helpful
to me. He was and is a member of Mr. Brewer's church,
a man of experience in the things of God, and of a lively
communicative turn. We discovered each other by some
casual expressions in mixed company, and soon became, so
far as business would permit, inseparable. For nearly a
month we spent every evening together on board each
other's ship alternately, and often prolonged our visits till
toward day-break. I was all ear; and, what was better, he
not only informed my understanding, but his discourse in-
flamed my heart. He encouraged me to open my mouth in
social prayer; he taught me the advantage of Christian con-
verse ; he put me upon an attempt to make my profession
more public, and to venture to speak for God. From him,
or rather from the Lord by his means, I received an increase
of knowledge: my conceptions became clearer and more
evangelical ; and I was delivered from a fear which had long
troubled me — the fear of relapsing into my former apostacv.
But now I began to understand the security of the covenant
of grace, and to expect to be preserved, not by my own
power and holiness, but by the mighty power and promise
of God, through faith in an unchangeable Savior. He like-
wise gave me a general view of the state of religion, with
the errors and controversies of the times, (things to which I
had been entirely a stranger,) and finally directed me where
to apply in London for. further instruction. With these
newly-acquired advantages, I left him, and my passage
homeward gave me leisure to digest what I had received. I
had much comfort and freedom during those seven weeks,
and my sun was seldom clouded. I arrived safely in Liver-
pool, August, 1754.

My stay at home was intended to be but short ; and by
the beginning of November I was again ready for the sea ;
but the Lord saw fit to over-rule my design. During the
time I was engaged in the slave-trade, 1 never had the least
scruple as to its lawfulness. I was, upon the whole, satisfied
with it, as the appointment Providence had marked out for
me; yet it was, in many respects, far from eligible. It was,
Indeed, accounted a genteel employment, and usually very

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[70

profitable, though to me it did not prove so, the Lord see-
ing that a large increase of wealth would not be good for
me. However, I considered myself as a sort of gaoler or
turnkey, and I was sometimes shocked with an employment
that was perpetually conversant with chains, bolts, and
shackles. In this view I had often petitioned, in my prayers,
that the Lord, in his own time, would be pleased to fix me
in a more humane calling, and, if it might be, place me
where I might have more frequent converse with his people
and ordinances, and be freed from those long separations
from home, which very often were hard to bear. My prayers
were now answered, though in a way I little expected. I
now experienced another sudden, unforeseen change of life.
I was within two days of sailing, and, to all appearance, in as
good health as usual ; but in the afternoon, as I was sitting
with Mrs. Newton, drinking tea by ourselves, and talking
over past events, I was in a moment seized with a fit which
deprived me of sense and motion, and left me no other sign
of life than that of breathing. I suppose it was of the apo-
plectic kind. It lasted about an hour ; and when I reco-
vered, it left a pain and dizziness in my head, which con-
tinued, with such symptoms as induced the physicians to
judge it would not be safe or prudent for me to proceed on
the voyage. Accordingly, by the advice of my friend to
whom the ship belonged, I resigned the command the day
before she sailed ; and thus I was unexpectedly called from
that service, and freed from a share of the future conse-
quences of that voyage, which proved extremely calamitous.
The person who went in my room, most of the officers, and
many of the crew died, and the vessel was brought home
with great difficulty.

As I was now disengaged from business, I left Liverpool,
and spent most of the following year at London and in
Kent. But I entered upon a new trial. You will easily
conceive that Mrs. Newton was not an unconcerned specta-
tor when I lay extended, and, as she thought, expiring,
upon the ground. In effect, the blow that struck me reached
her in the same instant : she did not indeed immediately
feel it, till her apprehensions on my account began to sub-
side ; but as I grew better, she became worse : her surprise
threw her into a disorder which no physicians could define,
or medicines remove. Without any of the ordinary symp-

71]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

71

tonis of a consumption, she decayed almost visibly, till she
became so weak that she could hardly bear any one to
walk across the room she was in. I was placed, lor about
eleven months, in what Dr. Young calls the

dreadful post of observation,

Darker every hour.

It was not till after my settlement at Liverpool that the
Lord was pleased to restore her by his own hand, when all
hopes from ordinary means were at an end. But before
this took place I have some other particulars to mention,
which must be the subject of the following sheet, which I
hope will be the last on this subject from, &c.

LETTER XIV.

By the directions I had received from my friend at St.
Kitt's, I soon found out a religious acquaintance in London.
I first applied to Mr. Brewer, and chiefly attended upon his
ministry when in town. From him I received many helps,
both in public and private; for he was pleased to favor me
with his friendship from the first. His kindness and the in-
timacy between us has continued and increased to this day ;
and of all my many friends, I am most deeply indebted to

him. The late Mr. II d was my second acquaintance, a

man of a choice spirit, and an abundant zeal for the Lord's
service. I enjoyed his correspondence till near the time of
his death. Soon after, upon Mr. Whitefield's return from
America, my two good friends introduced me to him ; and
though I had little personal acquaintance with him till after-
ward, his ministry was exceedingly useful to me. I had like-
wise access to some religious societies, and became known
to many excellent Christians in private life. Thus, when at
London, I lived at the fountain-head, as it were, for spiri-
tual advantages. When I was in Kent it was very different ;
yet I found some serious persons there ; but the fine varie-
gated woodland country afforded me advantages of another
kind. Most of my time, at least some hours every day, I
passed in retirement, when the weather was fair; sometimes
in the thickest woods, sometimes on the highest hills, where
almost everv step varied the prospect. It has been my cus-

72. LIFE OP REV. JOHN NEWTON. [72

torn, for many years, to perform my devotional exercises
sub die, when I have opportunity ; and I always find these
rural scenes have some tendency hoth to refresh and to
compose my spirits. A beautiful diversified prospect glad-
dens my heart. When I am withdrawn from the noise and
petty works of men, I consider myself as in the great tem-
ple which the Lord has built for his own honor.

The country between Rochester and Maidstone, border-
ing upon the Medway, was well suited to the turn of my
mind ; and were I to go over it now, I could point to many
a place where I remember to have either earnestly sought,
or happily found, the Lord's comfortable presence with my
soul. And thus I lived, sometimes at London, and some-
times in the country, till the autumn of the following year.
All this while I had two trials more or less upon my mind :
the first and principal was Mrs. Newton's illness ; she still
grew worse, and I had daily more reason to fear that the
hour of separation was at hand. When faith was in exer-
cise, I was in some measure resigned to the Lord's will ;
but too often my heart rebelled, and I found it hard either
to trust or to submit. I had likewise some care about my
future settlement ; the African trade was overdone that year,
and my friends did not care to fit out another ship till mine
returned. I was sometime in suspense ; but indeed a provi-
sion of food and raiment has seldom been a cause of great
solicitude to me. I found it easier to trust the Lord in this
point than in the former ; and accordingly this was first an-
swered. In August I received notice that I was nominated
to the office of tide-surveyor. These places are usually ob-
tained, or at least sought, by dint of much interest and ap-
plication ; but this came to me unsought and unexpected. I
knew, indeed, my good friends in Liverpool had endea-
vored to procure another post for me, but found it pre-
engaged. I found, afterward, that the place I had missed
would have been very unsuitable for me ; and that this,
which I had no thought of, was the very thing I could have
wished for, as it afforded me much leisure, and the liberty
of living in my own way. Several circumstances, unnoticed
by others, concurred to show me that the good hand of the
Lord was as remarkably concerned in this event, as in any
other leading turn of my life.

But when I gained this point, my distress in the other

73]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

73

was doubled ; I was obliged to leave Mrs. Newton in the
greatest extremity of pain and illness, when the physicians
could do no more, and 1 had no ground of hope that I should
see her again alive, hut this — that nothing is impossible with
the Lord. I had a severe conflict ; but faith prevailed : I
found the promise remarkably fulfilled, of strength propor-
tioned to my need. The day before I set out, and not till
then, the burden was entirely taken from my mind; I was
strengthened to resign both her and myself to the Lord's
disposal, and departed from her in a cheerful frame. Soon
after I was gone she began to amend, and recovered so fast,
that in about two months I had the pleasure to meet her at
Stone, on her journey to Liverpool.

And now I think 1 have answered, if not exceeded your
desire. Since October, 1755, we have been comfortably
settled at Liverpool: and all my circumstances have been
as remarkably smooth and uniform, as they were various
in former years. My trials have been light and few; not
but that I still find, in the experience of every day, the ne-
cessity of a life of faith. My principal trial is, the body of sin
and death, which makes me often to sigh out the apostle's
complaint, " O wretched man !" but with him likewise I
can say, " I thank God through Jesus Christ my Lord."
-I live in a barren land, where the knowledge and power of
the Gospel is very low ; yet here are a few of the Lord's
people ; and this wilderness has been a useful school to me ;
where I have studied more leisurely the truths I gathered
up in London. I brought down with me a considerable stock
of notional truth ; but I have since found that there is no
effectual teacher but God ; that we can receive no farther
than he is pleased to communicate ; and that no knowledge
is truly useful to me but what is made my own by expe-
rience. Many things I thought I had learned, would not stand
in an hour of temptation, till I had in this way learned them
over again. Since the year 1757, I have had an increasing
acquaintance in the West-riding of Yorkshire, where the
Gospel flourishes greatly. This has been a good school to
me : I have conversed at large among all parties, without
joining any ; and in my attempts to hit the golden mean, I
have sometimes been drawn too near the different extremes;
yet the Lord has enabled me to profit by my mistakes. In
brief, I am still a learner, and the Lord still condescends to

4

74

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[74

teach mo. I begin at lengtli to see that I have attained but
very little ; but I trust in him to carry on his ow n work in
my soul, and, by all the dispensations of his grace and pro-
vidence, to increase my knowledge of him and of myself.

When I was fixed in a house, and found my business
would afford me much leisure time, I considered in what
manner I should improve it. And now, having reason to
close with the Apostle's determination, " to know nothing
but Jesus Christ and him crucified," I devoted my life to
the prosecution of spiritual knowledge, and resolved to
pursue nothing but in subservience to this main design.
This resolution divorced me (as I have already hinted) from
the classics and mathematics. My first attempt was to learn
so much Greek as would enable me to understand the New
Testament and Septuagint : and when I had made some
progress this way, I entered upon the Hebrew the follow-
ing year; and two years afterward, having surmised some
advantages from the Syriac version, I began with that lan-
guage. You must not think that I have attained, or ever
aimed at, a critical skill in any of these : I had no business
with them, but as in reference to something else. I never
read one classic author in the Greek ; I thought it too late
in life to take such a round in this language as I had done
in the Latin. I only wanted the signification of scriptural
words and phrases ; and for this I thought I might avail my-
self of Scapula the Synopsis, and others, who had sustained
the drudgery before me. In the Hebrew I can read the his-
torical books and psalms with tolerable ease ; but in the
prophetical and difficult parts, I am frequently obliged to
have recourse to lexicons, &c. However, I know so much
as to be able, with such helps as are at hand, to judge for my-
self the meaning of any passage I have occasion to consult.
Beyond this I do not think of proceeding, if I can find bet-
ter employment ; for I would rather be some way useful to
others, than die with the reputation of an eminent linguist.

Together with these studies, 1 have kept up a course of
reading of the best writers in divinity that have come to my
hand, in the Latin and English tongues, and some French,
(for I picked up the French at times while I used the sea.)
But within these two or three years I have accustomed my-
self chiefly to writing, and have not found time to read
many books beside the Scriptures.

75]

LIFE OF UEV. JOHN NEWTON.

75

I am the more particular in this account, as my case has
been something singular ; for in all my literary attempts I
have been obliged to strike out my own path, by the light I
could acquire from books, as I have not had a teacher or
assistant since I was ten years of age.

One word concerning my views to the ministry, and I
have done. 1 have told you that this was my dear mother's
hope concerning me ; but her death, and the scenes of life
in which I afterward engaged, seemed to cut off the proba-
bility. The first desires of this sort in my own mind arose
many years ago, from a reflection on Gal. 1 : 23, 24, " But
they iiad heard only, that he which persecuted us in times
past, now preached the faith which once he destroyed. And
they glorified God in me." 1 could not but wish for such a
public opportunity to testify the riches of divine grace. I
thought I was, above most living, a fit person to proclaim
that faithful saying, " That Jesus Christ came into the world
to save the chief of sinners ;" and as my life had been full
of remarkable turns, and I seemed selected to show what
the Lord could do, I was in some hopes that perhaps,
sooner or later, he might call me into his service.

I believe it was a distant hope of this that determined me
to study the original Scriptures ; but it remained an imper-
fect desire in my own breast, till it was recommended to me
by some Christian friends. I started at the thought when
first seriously proposed to me; but afterward set apart some
weeks to consider the case, to consult my friends, and to
entreat the Lord's direction. The judgment of my friends,
and many things that occurred, tended to engage me. My
first thought was to join the Dissenters, from a presumption
that I could not honestly make the required subscriptions:
but Mr. C , in a conversation upon these points, mo-
derated my scruples; and preferring the Established Church
in some other respects, I accepted a title from him some
months afterward, and solicited ordination from the late
Archbishop of York. I need not tell you I met a refusal,
nor what steps I took afterward to succeed elsewhere. At
present (1763) I desist from my applications. My desire to
serve the Lord is not weakened ; but I am not so hasty to
push myself forward as I was formerly. It is sufficient that
he knows how to dispose of me, and that he both can and
will do what is best. To him I commend myself ; I trust

76

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[76

that his will and my true interest are inseparable. To his
name be glory for ever. And thus I conclude my story,
and presume you will acknowledge I have been particular
enough.

SUBSEQUENT PARTICULARS.

We skall noiv present ovr readers with a further account of .Mr. New-
to7i's life, abridged from the work of the Rev. R. Cecil.

Mr. Manesty, who had long been a faithful and generous
friend of Mr. Newton, procured him the place of tide-sur-
veyor in the port of Liverpool. Mr. N. gives the following
account of it: — " I entered upon business yesterday. I find
my duty is to attend the tides one week, and visit the ships
that arrive, and such as are in the river ; and the other week
to inspect the vessels in the docks ; and thus alternately the
year round. The latter is little more than a sinecure, but
the former requires pretty constant attendance, both by day
and night. I have a good office, with fire and candle, and
fifty or sixty people under my direction ; with a handsome
six-oared boat and a cockswain to row me about in form."
Letters to a Wife, vol. ii. p. 7.

"We cannot wonder that Mr. N. latterly retained a strong
impression of a particular providence superintending and
conducting the steps of man, since he was so often re-
minded of it in his own history. The following occurrence
is one of many instances. Mr. N., after his reformation,
was remarkable for his punctuality ; I remember his often
sitting with his watch in his hand, lest he should fail in keep-
ing his next engagement. This exactness with respect to
time, it seems, was his habit while occupying his post at
Liverpool. One day, however, some business had so de-
tained him that he came to his boat much later than usual,
to the surprise of those who had observed his former punc-
tuality. He went out in the boat as heretofore to inspect a
ship, but the ship blew up just before he reached her ; it
appears, that if he had left the shore a few minutes sooner,
he must have perished with the rest on board.

This anecdote I had from a clergyman, upon whose word
[ can depend, who had been long on intimate terms with
Mr. N., and who had it from Mr. N. himself; the reason of

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

77

its not appearing in his letters from Liverpool to Mrs. N., I
can only suppose to be, his fearing to alarm her with
respect to the dangers of his station. But another provi-
dential occurrence, which he mentions in those letters, I
shall transcribe.

" When I think of my settlement here, and the manner
of it, I see the appointment of Providence so good and gra-
cious, and such a plain answer to my poor prayers, that I
cannot but wonder and adore. I think I have not yet told

you, that my immediate predecessor in oflice, Mr. C ,

had not the least intention of resigning his place on the oc-
casion of his father's death ; though such a report was spread
about the town without his knowledge, or rather in defiance
of all he could say to contradict it. Yet to this false report
I owe my situation. For it put Mr, M upon an appli-
cation to Mr. S , the member for the town; and the

very day he received the promise in my favor, Mr. C

was found dead in his bed, though he had been in company,
and in perfect health, the night before. If I mistake not,
the same messenger who brought the promise carried back

the news of the vacancy to Mr. S , at Chester. About

an hour after, the mayor applied for a nephew of his ; but,
though it was only an hour or two, he was too late. Mr.

S had already written, and sent ofi'the letter, and I was

appointed accordingly. These circumstances appear to me
extraordinary, though of a piece with many other parts of
my singular history. And the more so, as by another mis-
take I missed the land-waiter's place, which was my first
object, and which I now see would not have suited us nearly
so well. I thank God I can now look through instruments
and second causes, and see his wisdom and goodness imme-
diately concerned in fixing my lot."

Mr. N. having expressed, near the end of his narrative,
the motives which induced him to aim at a regular appoint-
ment to the ministry in the Church of England, and the re-
fusal he met with in his first making the attempt, the reader
is farther informed that, on Dec. 16, 1758, Mr. N. received

a title to a curacy from the Rev. Mr. C , and applied

to the Archbishop of York, Dr. Gilbert, for ordination. The
Bishop of Chester having countersigned his testimonials, di-
rected him to Dr. Newton, the archbishop's chaplain. He
was referred to the secretary, and received the softest refu-

78

LIFE OF REV. JOHN SEWTOX.

[78

sal imaginable. The secretary informed him that he had
•' represented the matter to the archbishop, but his Grace
was inflexible in supporting the rules and canons of the
Church," &c.

Travelling to Loughborough, Mr. N. stopped at Wehvyn,
and sending a note to the celebrated Dr. Young, he received
for answer, that the doctor would be glad to see him. He
found the doctor's conversation agreeable, and to answer
his expectation respecting the author of the Night Thoughts.
The doctor likewise seemed pleased with Mr. N. He ap-
proved Mr. N's design of entering the ministry, and said
many encouraging things upon the subject; and when he
dismissed Mr. N., desired him never to pass near Welwyn
without calling upon him.

Mr. N., it seems, had made some small attempts at Liver-
pool, in a way of preaching or expounding. Many wished
him to engage more at large in those ministerial employ-
ments, to which his own mind was inclined; and he thus
expresses his motives in a letter to Mrs. N., in answer to
the objections she had formed. " The death of the late Rev.
Mr. Jones, of St. Savior's, has pressed this concern more
closely upon my mind. I fear it must be wrong, after having
so solemnly devoted myself to the Lord for his service, to
wear away my time, and bury my talents in silence, (because
1 have been refused orders in the Established Church,)
after all the great things he has done for me.:'

In a note annexed, he observes, that " the influence of
bis judicious and affectionate counsellor moderated the zeal
which dictated this letter, written in the year 1762 ; that
had it not been for her, he should probably have been pre-
cluded from those important scenes of service to which he
was afterward appointed :" but, he adds, " The exercises of
my mind upon this point, I believe, have not been peculiar
to myself. 1 have known several persons, sensible, pious,
of competent abilities, and cordially attached to the esta-
blished church; who, being wearied out with repeated re-
fusals of ordination, and, perhaps, not having the advantage
of such an adviser as I had, have at length struck into the
itinerant path, or settled among the dissenters. Some of
lhese, yet living, are men of respectable characters, and
useful in their ministry."

In the year 1764 Mr. N. had the curacy of Olney pro-

79] LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON. 79

posed to him, and was recommended by Lord Dartmouth to
Dr. Green, bishop of Lincoln ; of whose candor and ten-
derness he speaks with much respect. The bishop admitted
him as a candidate for orders. " The examination," says
he, " lasted about an hour, chiefly upon the principal heads
of divinity As I resolved not to be charged hereafter with
dissimulation, I was constrained to differ from his lordship
in some points ; but he was not offended: he declared him-
self satisfied, and has promised to ordain me either next
Sunday, in town, or the Sunday following, at Buckden. Let
us praise the Lord."

Mr. N. was ordained deacon at Buckden, April 29, 17C4,
and priest in June, the following year. In the parish of 01-
ney he found many who not only had evangelical views of
the truth, but had also long walked in the light and expe-
rience of it. The vicarage was in the gift of the Earl of
Dartmouth, the nobleman to whom Mr. N. addressed the
first twenty-six letters in his Cardiphonia. The earl was a
man of real piety and most amiable disposition ; he had
formerly appointed the Rev. Moses Brown, vicar of Olney.
Mr. Brown was an evangelical minister, and a good man;
he had afforded wholesome instruction to the parishioners
of Olney, and had been the instrument of a sound con-
version in many of them. He was the author of a poem,
entitled Sunday Thoughts; a translation of Professor
Zimmermann's Excellency of the Knowledge of Jesus
Christ, &c.

But Mr. Brown had a numerous family, and met with
considerable trials in it ; he too much resembled Eli in his
indulgence of his children. He was also under the pressure
of difficulties, and had therefore accepted the chaplaincy of
Morden College, Blackheath, while vicar of Olney. Mr. N.
undertook the curacy of Olney, in which he continued nearly
sixteen years, previous to his removal to St. Mary Wool-
noth, to which he was afterward presented by the late
John Thornton, Esq.

Mr. N. was under the greatest obligations to Mr. Thorn-
ton's friendship while at Olney, and was enabled to extend
his own usefulness by the bounty of that extraordinary man.
To this common patron of every useful and pious endeavor
Mr. N. had sent his Narrative, and Mr. Thornton replied
in his usual manner, that is, by accompanying his letter with

so

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[80

a valuable bank note ; and, some months after he paid Mr. N.
a visit at Olney. A closer connexion being now formed
between friends who employed their distinct talents in pro-
moting the same benevolent cause, Mr. Thornton left a sum
of money with Mr. N., to be appropriated to the defraying
his necessary expenses and relieving the poor. " Be hos-
pitable," said Mr. Thornton, " and keep an open bouse for
such as are worth}' of entertainment : help the poor and
needy : 1 will statedly allow you £200 a year, and readily
send whatever you have occasion to draw for more." Mr. N.
told me that he thought he had received of Mr. Thornton
upward of £3000 in this way during the time he resided
at Olney.

The case of most ministers is peculiar in this respect ;
some among them ma)' be looked up to on account of their
publicity and talents ; they may have made great sacrifices
of their personal interest, in order to enter on their minis-
try, and may be possessed of the strongest benevolence ; but
from the narrowness of their pecuniary circumstances, and
from the largeness of their families, they often perceive that
;:n ordinary tradesman in their parishes can subscribe to a
charitable or popular institution much more liberally than
themselves. This would have been Mr. N's case, but for
the above-mentioned singular patronage.

A minister, however, should not be so forgetful of his
dispensation as to repine at his want of power in this re-
spect. He might as justly estimate his deficiency by the
strength of a lion, or the flight of the eagle. The power
communicated to him is of another kind; and power of every
kind belongs to God, who gives gifts to every man severally
as he will. The two mites of the widow were all the power
of that kind which was communicated to her, and her be-
stowment of her two mites was better accepted than the
birge offerings of the rich man. The powers, therefore, of
Mr. Thornton, and of Mr. N., though of a different order,
were both consecrated to God ; and each might have said,
" Of thine own have we given thee."

Providence seems to have appointed Mr. N's residence
at Olney, among other reasons, for the relief of the de-
pressed mind of the poet Cowper.

Of great importance also was the vicinity of Mr. N's re-
sidence to the Rev. Thomas Scott, then curate of Raven-

81]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

stone and Weston Underwood, a man whose ministry and
writings have since been so useful to mankind.

In the year 1776 Mr. N. was afflicted with a tumour, or
wen, which had formed on his thigh ; and, on account of its
growing more large and troublesome, he resolved to un-
dergo the experiment of extirpation. This obliged him to
go to London for the operation, which was successfully per-
formed, October 10, by the late Mr. Warner, of Guy's Hos-
pital. I remember hearing him speak several years after-
ward of this trying occasion ; but the trial did not seem to
have affected him as a painful operation, so much as a cri-
tical opportunity in which he might fail in demonstrating
the patience of a Christian under pain. " I felt," said he,
" that being enabled to bear a very sharp operation with
tolerable calmness and confidence, was a greater favor
granted to me than the deliverance from my malady."*

While Mr. N. thus continued faithfully discharging the
duties of his station, and watching for the temporal and eter-
nal welfare of his flock, a dreadful fire broke out at Olney,
October, 1777. Mr. N. took an active part in comforting
and relieving the sufferers : he collected upward of £200
for them ; a considerable sum of money, when the poverty
and late calamity of the place are regarded. Such instances
of benevolence toward the people, with the constant assist-
ance he afforded the poor, by the help of Mr. Thornton,
naturally led him to expect that he should have so much in-
fluence as to restrain gross licentiousness on particular oc-
casions. But to use his own expression, he had " lived to
bury the old crop, on which any dependance could be

* His reflections upon the occasion, in his diary, are as follow: —
: Thou didst support me, and make this operation very tolerable.
The cure, by thy blessing, was happily expedited ; so that on Sunday,

the 27th, I was enabled to go to church and hear Mr. F , and tlie

following Sunday to preach for him. The tenderness and attention
of Dr. and Mrs. F , with whom we were, I cannot sufficiently de-
scribe: nor, indeed, the kindness of many other friends. To them I
would be thankful, my Lord, but especially to thee; for what are
creatures but instruments in thy hand, fulfilling thy pleasure ? At
borne all was preserved quiet, and I met with no incident to distress
or disturb me while absent. The last fortnight I preached often, and
was hurried about in seeing my friends. But though I had little leisure
or opportunity for retirement, and my heart, alas ! as usual, was sadly
reluctantjind dull in secret, yet, in public thou wert pleased to favor
ine with liberty."

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[82

placed." He preached a weekly lecture, which occurred
that year on the 5th of November ; and, as he feared that
the usual way of celebrating it at Olney might endanger his
hearers in their attendance at the church, he exerted him-
self to preserve some degree of quiet on that evening. In-
stead, however, of hearkening to his entreaties, the looser
sort exceeded their former extravagance, drunkenness, and
rioting, and even obliged him to send out money, to pre-
serve his house from violence. This happened but a year
before he finally left Olney. When he related this occur-
rence to me, he added, that he believed he should never
have left the place while he lived, had not so incorrigible a
spirit prevailed in a parish he had long labored to reform.

But I must remark here, that this is no solitary fact nor
at all unaccountable. The Gospel, we are informed, is not
merely " a savor of life unto life," but also " of death unto
death." Those whom it does not soften it is often found
to harden. Thus we find St. Paul " went into the syna-
gogue and spake boldly for the space of three months, dis-
puting and persuading the things concerning the kingdom
of God. But when divers were hardened, and believed not,
but spake evil of that way before the multitude, he departed
from them."

" The strong man armed" seeks to keep his " house and
goods in peace," and, if a minister is disposed to let this
sleep of death remain, that minister's own house and goods
may be permitted to remain in peace also. Such a minister
may be esteemed by his parish as a good kind of man —
quiet, inoffensive, candid, &x. ; and if he discovers any zeal,
it is directed to keep the parish in the state he found it ;
that is, in ignorance and unbelief, worldly-minded, and
hard-hearted ; the very state of peace in which the strong
man armed seeks to keep his palace or citadel, the human
heart.

But if a minister, like the subject of these Memoirs, en-
ters into the design of his commission — if he be alive to the
interest of his own soul, and that of the souls committed to
his charge ; or, as the apostle expresses it, " to save himself,
and those that hear him," he may depend upon meeting, in
his own experience, the truth of that declaration, " Yea, all
that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution"
in one form of it or another. One of the most melancholy

83]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

83

sights wc heboid is when professed Christians, tlirough pre-
judice, join the world in throwing the stone. There is,
however, such a determined enmity to godliness itself, in
the breast of a certain class of men existing in most parishes,
that, whatever learning and good sense is found in their
teacher — whatever consistency of character, or blameless
deportment he exhibits ; whatever benevolence or bounty
(like that which Mr. N. exercised at Olney) may constantly
appear in his character ; such men remain irreconcilable.
They will resist every attempt made to appease their enmity.
God alone, who changed the hearts of Paul and Newton, can
heal these bitter waters.

I recollect to have heard Mr. N. say on such an occasion,
" When God is about to perform any great work, he gene-
rally permits some great opposition to it. Suppose Pharaoh
had acquiesced in the departure of the children of Israel, or
that they had met with no difficulties in the way, they would,
indeed, have passed from Egypt to Canaan with ease ; but
they, as well as the church in all future ages, would have
been great losers. The wonder-working God would not
have been seen in those extremities which make his arm
so visible. A smooth passage here would have made but a
poor story."

But under such disorders, Mr. N., in no one instance that
I ever heard of, was tempted to depart from the line marked
out by the precept and example of his Master. He con-
tinued to " bless them that persecuted him," knowing that
" the servant of the Lord must not strive, but be gentle unto
all men, apt to teach, patient." To the last day he spent
among them he went straight fonord, " in meekness in-
structing those that opposed, if God peradventure might
give them repentance to the acknowledging the truth."

But, before we take a final leave of Olney, the reader
must be informed of another part of Mr. N's labors. He
had published a volume of Sermons before he took orders,
dated Liverpool, January 1, 1760. In 1762, he published
his Omicron, to which his letters, signed Vigil, were after-
ward annexed. In 1764, appeared his narrative. In 1767,
a volume of Sermons, preached at Olney. In 1769, his
Review of Ecclesiastical History; and, in 1770, a volume
of Hymns, of which some were composed by Mr. Cowper,
and distinguished by the letter C. prefixed to them. To

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[84

these succeeded, in 1781, his valuable work, Cardiphonia.

From Olney Mr. N. was removed to the rectory of the
united parishes of St. Mary Woolnoth and St. Mary Wool-
church Haw, Lombard-street, on the presentation of his
friend, Mr. Thornton.

Some difficulty arose on Mr. N's being presented, from
Mr. Thornton's right of presentation being claimed by a
nobleman ; the question was, therefore, at length brought
before the House of Lords, and determined in favor of
Mr. Thornton. Mr. N. preached his first sermon in these
parishes, December 19, 17T9, from Eph. 4 : 15, " Speaking
t lie truth in love." It contained an affectionate address to
his parishioners, and was directly published for their use.

Here a new and very distinct scene of action and useful-
ness was set before him. Placed in the centre of London,
in an opulent neighborhood, with connections daily increas-
ing, he had now a course of service to pursue, in several
respects different from his former at Olney. Being, however,
well acquainted with the word of God, and the heart of man,
he proposed to himself no new weapons of warfare for pull-
ing down the strong holds of sin and Satan around him. He
perceived, indeed, most of his parishioners too intent upon
their wealth and merchandise to pay much regard to their
new minister; but, since they would not come to him, he
was determined to go, as far as he could, to them; and,
therefore, soon after his institution, he sent a printed ad-
dress to his parishioners: he afterward sent them another
address, on the usual prejudices that are taken up against
the gospel. What effects these attempts had then upon
them does not appear; certain it is, that these, and other
acts of his ministry, will be recollected by them when the
objects of their present pursuits are forgotten or lamented.

I have heard Mr. N. speak with great feeling on the cir-
cumstances of his last important station. " That one," said
he, " of the most ignorant, the most miserable, and the most
abandoned of slaves, should be plucked from his forlorn
state of exile on the coast of Africa, and at length be ap-
pointed minister of the parish of the first magistrate of the
first city in the world ; that he should there not only testify
of such grace, but stand up as a singular instance and monu-
ment of it; that he should be enabled to record it in his
history, preaching, and writings, to the world at large — is

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

a fact I can contemplate with admiration, but never suffi-
ciently estimate.'' This reflection, indeed, was so present
to his mind on all occasions, and in all places, that he sel-
dom passed a single day any where but lie was found refer-
ring to the strange event, in one way or other.

When Mr. N. came to London he resided for some time
in Charles' Square, Hoxton; afterward he removed to
Coleman Street Buildings, where he continued till his death.
Being of the most friendly and communicative disposition,
his house was open to Christians of all ranks and denomi-
nations. Here, like a father among his children, he used to
entertain, encourage, and instruct his friends, especially
younger ministers, or candidates for the ministry. Here
also the poor, the afflicted, and the tempted, found an asy-
lum and a sympathy which they could scarcely find, in an
equal degree, any where besides.

His timely hints were often given with much point and
profitable address to the numerous acquaintance who sur-
rounded him in his public station. Some time after Mr. N.
had published his Omicron, and described the three stages
of growth in religion, from the blade, the ear, and the full
corn in the ear, distinguishing them by the letters A, B, and
C, a conceited young minister wrote to Mr. N., telling him
that he read his own character accurately drawn in that of
C. Mr. N. wrote in reply, that in drawing the character
of C, or full maturity, he had forgotten to add, till now, one
prominent feature of C's character, namely, that C never
knew his own face.

" It grieves me," said Mr. N., " to see so few of my
wealthy parishioners come to church. I always consider the
rich as under greater obligations to the preaching of the gospel
than the poor. For at church the rich must hear the whole
truth as well as others. There they have no mode of es-
cape. But let them once get home, you will be troubled to
get at them; and, when you are admitted, you are so fet-
tered with punctilio, so interrupted and damped with the
frivolous conversation of their friends, that, as Archbishop
Leighton says, 1 it is well if your visit does not prove a blank
or a blot.'"

Mr. N. used to improve every occurrence which he could
with propriety bring into the pulpit. One night he found a
bill put up at St. Mary Woolnoth's, upon which he com-

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[86

merited a great deal when he came to preach. The hill was
to this effect : " A young man having come to the posses-
sion of a very considerable fortune, desires the prayers of
the congregation that he may be preserved from the snares
to which it exposes him." " Now, if the man," said Mr. N.
" had lost a fortune, the world would not have wondered
to have seen him put up a bill, but this man has been better
taught."

Coming out of his church on a Wednesday, a lady stop-
ped him on the steps, and said, " The ticket, of which I
held a quarter, is drawn a prize of ten thousand pounds.
I know you will congratulate me upon the occasion."
" Madam," said he, " as foi a friend under temptation, I
will endeavor to pray for you."

Soon after he came to St. Mary's I remember to have
heard him say, in a certain company, " Some have observed
that I preach shorter sermons on a Sunday morning, and
with more caution ; but this I do upon principle. I suppose
1 may have two or three of my bankers present, and some
others of my parish, who have hitherto been strangers to my
views of truth. I endeavor to imitate the apostle. ' I be-
came,' says he, 1 all things to all men ;' but observe the end,
it was in order to ' gain some.' The fowler must go cau-
tiously to meet shy birds, but he will not leave his powder
and shot behind him. ' I have fed you with milk,' says the
apostle ; but there are some that are not only for forcing
strong meat, but bones too, down the throat of the child.
We must have patience with a single step in the case of an
infant ; and there are one-step books and sermons, which are
good in their place. Christ taught his disciples as they were
able to bear ; and it was upon the same principle that the
apostle accommodated himself to prejudice. Now," con-
tinued he, " what I wish to remark on these considerations
is, that this apostolical principle, steadily pursued, will ren-
der a minister apparently inconsistent ; superficial hearers
will think him a trimmer. On the other hand, a minister,
destitute of the apostolical principle and intention, and di-
recting his whole force to preserve the appearance of con-
sistency, may thus seem to preserve it ; but, let me tell you,
here is only the form of faithfulness without the spirit."

I could not help observing, one day, how much Mr. N. was
grieved with the mistake of a minister who appeared to

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87

pay too much attention to politics. " For my part," said
he, " I have no temptation to turn politician, and much less
to inflame a party, in these times. When a ship is leak)',
and a mutinous spirit divides the company on board, a wise
man would say, ' My good friends, while we are debating the
water is gaining on us — we had better leave the debate and
go to the pumps.' I endeavor," continued he, " to turn my
people's eyes from instruments to God. I am continually
attempting to show them how far they are from knowing
either the matter of fact or the matter of right. I inculcate
our great privileges in this country, and advise a discon-
tented man to take a lodging for a little while in Russia or
Prussia."

Though no great variety of anecdote is to be expected in
a course so stationary as this part of Mr. N's life and mi-
nistry— for sometimes the course of a single day might give
the account of a whole year — yet that day was so benevo-
lently spent, that he was found in it " not only rejoicing
with those that rejoiced," but literally " weeping with those
that wept." The portrait which Goldsmith drew from im-
agination, Mr. N. realized in fact, insomuch that had Mr.
N. sat for his picture to the poet, it could not have been
more accurately delineated than by the following lines in his
Deserted Village : —

" Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power,
" By doctrines fasliion'd to the varying hour;
'• Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
" More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
" Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
" And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side;
" But in his duty prompt at every call,
" He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all :
"And as a bird each fond endearment tries,
" To tempt his new-fledged offspring to the skies,
" He tried each ai t, reprov'd each dull delay,
" Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way."

I remember to have heard him say, when speaking of his
continual interruptions, " I see in this world two heaps of
human happiness and misery ; now if I can take but the
smallest bit from one heap and add to the other, I carry a
point. If, as I go home, a child has dropped a halfpenny,
and if, by giving it another, I can wipe away its tears, I feel
I have done something. I should be glad indeed to do greater

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[88

things, but I will not neglect this. When I hear a knock at
iny study door, I hear a message from God ; it may be a
lesson of instruction, perhaps a lesson of patience ; but
since it is his message, it must be interesting."

But it was not merely under his own roof that his bene-
volent aims were thus exerted ; he was found ready to take an
active part in relieving the miserable, directing the anxious,
or recovering the wanderer, in whatever state or place he
discovered such : of which take the following instance :

The late Dr. Buchanan was a youth of considerable ta-
lents, and had received a respectable education. I am
not informed of his original destination in point of profes-
sion; but certain it is, that he left his parents in Scotland,
with a design of viewing the world at large ; and that, with-
out those pecuniary resources which could render such an
undertaking convenient, or even practicable. Yet, having
the sanguine expectations of youth, together with its inex-
perience, he determinately pursued his plan. I have seen
an account from his own hand, of the strange, but by no
means dishonorable resources to which he was reduced in
the pursuit of this scheme ; nor can romance exceed the de-
tail. To London, however, he came ; and then he seemed
to come to himself. He had heard Mr. N's character, and on
a Sunday evening he came to St. Mary Woolnoth, and stood
in one of the aisles while Mr. N. preached. In the course
of that week he wrote to Mr. N. some account of his ad-
ventures and state of mind. Such circumstances could be
addressed to no man more properly. Mr. N's favorite maxim
was often in his mouth, more often in his actions, and al-
ways in his heart :

Haud ignara mali, miseris succurrfrc disco.
" Not ignorant of suffering, I hasten to succour the wretched."
Mr. N. therefore gave notice from the pulpit on the follow-
ing Sunday evening, that, if the person were present who
had sent him such a letter, he should be glad to speak
with him.

Mr. Buchanan gladly accepted the invitation, and came
to Mr. N's house, where a friendship began which conti-
nued till Mr. N's death. Mr. N. not only afforded this youth
the instruction which he at this period so deeply needed,
but marking his fine abilities and correct inclination, he in-

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89

traduced him to Henry Thornton, Esq., who, inheriting his
lather's unbounded liberality, and determined adherence to
the cause of real religion, readily patronised the stranger.
Mr. Buchanan was, by the munificence of this gentleman,
supported through a university education, and was afterward
ordained to a curacy. It was, however, thought expedient
that his talents should be employed in an important station
abroad, which he readily undertook, and in which he main-
tained a very distinguished character.

It ought not to be concealed that Mr. Buchanan, after his
advancement, not only returned his patron the whole ex-
pense of his university education, but also placed in his
hands an equal sum, for the education of some pious youth
who might be deemed worthy of the same assistance as was
once afforded to himself.

Mr. N. used to spend a month or two, annually, at the
house of some friend in the country ; he always took an
affectionate leave of his congregation before he departed,
and spoke of his leaving town as quite uncertain of return-
ing to it, considering the variety of incidents which might
prevent that return. Nothing was more remarkable than
his constant habit of regarding the hand of God in every
event, however trivial it might appear to others. On every
occasion — in the concerns of every hour — in matters public
or private, like Enoch, he " walked with God." Take a
single instance of his state of mind in this respect. In walk-
ing to his church he would say, " ' The way of man is not
in himself,' nor can he conceive what belongs to a single
step — when I go to St. Mary Woolnoth, it seems the same
whether I turn down Lothbury or go through the Old Jew-
ry ; but the going through one street and not another, may
produce an effect of lasting consequences. A man cut down
my hammock in sport, but had he cut it down half an hour
later, I had not been here, as the exchange of crew was
then making. A man made a smoke on the seashore at the
time a ship passed, which was thereby brought to, and af-
terward brought me to England."

Mr. N. experienced a severe stroke soon after he came
to St. Mary's, and while he resided in Charles' Square, in
the death of his niece, Miss Eliza Cunningham. He loved
her with the affection of a parent, and she was, indeed, truly
lovely. He had brought her up, and had observed that,

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[90

with the most amiable natural qualities, she possessed real
piety. With every possible attention from Mr. and Mrs.
Newton and their friends, they yet saw her gradually sink
into the arms of death; but she was, through grace, pre-
pared to meet him as a messenger sent from her heavenly
Father, to whom she departed, October 6th, 1785, aged
fourteen years and eight months. On this occasion Mr. N.
published a brief memoir of her character and death.*

In the years 1783 and 1784 Mr. N. preached a course of
sermons on an occasion of which he gives the following ac-
count in his first discourse : " Conversation in almost every
company, for some time past, has much turned upon the
commemoration of Handel, and particularly on his oratorio
of the Messiah. I mean to lead your meditations to the
language of the oratorio, and to consider, in their order, (if
the Lord, on whom our breath depends, shall be pleased to
afford life, ability, and opportunity,) the several sublime
and interesting passages of Scripture which are the basis of
that admired composition." In the year 1786 he published
these discourses in two volumes, octavo. There is a pas-
sage so original at the beginning of his fourth sermon, from
Mai. 3 : 1 — 3, " The Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly
come to his temple," &c. that I shall transcribe it for the
use of such as have not seen these discourses; at the same
time it will, in a few words, convey Mr. N's idea of the
usual performance of this oratorio, or attending its perform-
ance in present circumstances.

" ' Whereunto shall we liken the people of this genera-
tion, and to what are they like?' " I represent to myself a
number of persons, of various characters, involved in one
common charge of high treason. They are already in a
state of confinement, but not yet brought to their trial. The
facts, however, are so plain, and the evidence against them
so strong and pointed, that there is not the least doubt of
their guilt being fully proved, and that nothing but a pardon
can preserve them from punishment. In this situation it
should seem their wisdom to avail themselves of every ex-
pedient in their power for obtaining mercy : but they are
entirely regardless of their danger, and wholly taken up with

* This Memoir is Tract No. 83, published by the American Tract
Society

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contriving methods of amusing themselves, that the}' may
pass away the term of their imprisonment with as much
cheerfulness as possible. Among other resources, they call
in the assistance of music: and amidst a great variety of
subjects in this way, they are particularly pleased with one.
They choose to make the solemnities of their impending
trial, the character of their Judge, the methods of his pro-
cedure, and the awful sentence to which they are exposed,
the ground-work of a musical entertainment : and, as if
they were quite unconcerned in the event, their attention is
chiefly fixed upon the skill of the composer, in adapting the
style of his music to the very solemn language and subject
with which they are trifling. The king, however, out of his
great clemency and compassion toward those who have no
pity for themselves, prevents them with his goodness. Un-
desired by them, he sends them a gracious message : he
assures them that he is unwilling they should suffer: he re-
quires, yea, he entreats them to submit. He points out a
way in which their confession and submission shall be cer-
tainly accepted; and in this way, which he condescends to
prescribe, he offers them a free and a full pardon. But in-
stead of taking a single step toward a compliance with his
goodness, the}-" set his message likewise to music; and this,
together with a description of their previous state, and of
the fearful doom awaiting them, if they continue obstinate,
is sung for their diversion, accompanied with the sound of
the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all
kinds of instruments. Surely, if such a case as I have sup-
posed could be found in real life, though I might admire the
musical taste of these people, I should commiserate their
insensibility."

But " clouds return after the rain :" a greater loss than
that of Miss Cunningham was to follow. Enough has been
said in these memoirs already to show the more than ordi-
nary affection Mr. N. felt for her who had been so long his
idol, as he used to call her; of which I shall add but one
more instance out of many that might easily be collected.

Being with him at the house of a lady at Blackheath, we
stood at a window which had a prospect of Shooter's Hill.
" Ah," said Mr. N., " I remember the many journies I took
from London to stand at the top of t*' it hill in order
to look toward the part in which Mrs. ft. (lien lived : not

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[92

that I could see the spot itself, after travelling several miles,
for she lived far beyond what I could see, when on the hill ;
but it gratified me even to look toward the spot: and this I
did always once, and sometimes twice a week." " Why,"
said J, " this is more like one of the vagaries of romance
than of real life." " True," replied lie, " but real life has
extravagancies that would not be admitted to appear in a
well-written romance — they would be said to be out of
nature."

In such a continued habit of excessive attachment, it is
evident how keenly Mr. N. must have felt, while he observed
the progress of a threatening disorder. This will be ma-
nifest from the following account which he published. It
was added to his publication, Letters to a Wife, and he
entitles it

A Relation of some Particulars respecting the Cause, Progress, and
Close of the last Illness of my late dear Wife.

Among my readers there will doubtless be some of a
gentle, sympathizing spirit, with whom I am not personally
acquainted ; and perhaps their feelings may so far interest
them in my concerns as to make them not unwilling to read
a brief account of my late great trial.

My dear wife had naturally a good constitution, and was
favored with good spirits to the last : but the violent shock
she sustained in the year 1754, when I was suddenly at-
tacked by a fit ( I know not of what kind) which left me
no sign of life for about an hour, but breathing, made as
sudden a change in her habit, and subjected her, from that
time, to a variety of chronic complaints. She was several
times confined, for five or six months, to her chamber, and
often brought so low that her recovery seemed hopeless. I
believe she spent ten j'ears, out of the forty that she was
spared to me, (if all the days of her sufferings were added
together,) in illness and pain. But she had likewise long
intervals of health. The fit I have mentioned (the only one
I ever had) was the means the Lord was pleased to appoint,
in answer to my prayers, to free me from the irksome sea-
faring life in which I was till then engaged, and to appoint
me a settlement on shore.

Before our removal from Liverpool she received a blow
upon her left breast, which occasioned her some pain and
anxiety, for a little time, but which soon wore off. A small

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

03

lump remained in the part affected, but I heard no more of
it for many years. I believe that, latterly, she felt more
than I was aware of; but her tenderness for me made her
conceal it as long as possible. I have often since wondered at
her success, and how I could be kept so long ignorant of it.

In the month of October, 1788, she applied, unknown to
me, to a friend of mine, an eminent surgeon: her design
was, if he approved it, to submit to an operation, and so to
adjust time and circumstances with him, that it might be
performed in my absence, and before I could know it : but
the surgeon told her that the malady was too far advanced,
and the tumour (the size of which he compared to the half
of a melon) was too large to warrant the hope of being ex-
tracted without the most imminent danger of her life, and
that he durst not attempt it. He could give her but little
advice, more than to keep herself as quiet, and her mind as
easy as possible; and little more encouragement, than by
saying that the pains to which she was exposed were ge-
nerally rendered tolerable by the use of laudanum ; to which,
however, she had a dislike, little short of an antipathy.

I cannot easily describe the composure and resignation
with which she gave me this recital the next day after her
interview with the surgeon ; nor of the sensations of my
mind while I heard it. My conscience told me that I had
well deserved to be wounded where I was most sensible ;
and that it was my duty to submit with silence to the will
of the Lord. But I strongly felt that, unless he was pleased
to give me this submission, I was more likely to toss like a
wild bull in a net, in defiance of my better judgment.

Soon after, the Lord was pleased to visit our dear adopted
daughter with a dreadful fever, which at first greatly affected
her nerves, and afterward became putrid. She (Miss Catlett)
was brought very near to the grave indeed ; for we, once or
twice, thought her actually dead. But He, who in the midst
of judgment remembers mercy, restored her, and still pre-
serves her, to be the chief temporal comfort of my old age,
and to afford me the greatest alleviation of the loss I was
soon to experience, that the case could admit.

The attention and anxiety occasioned by this heavy dis-
pensation, which lasted during the whole of a very severe
winter ; were by no means suited to promote that tranquil-
lity of mind which my good friend wished my dear wife

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[94

would endeavor to preserve. She was often much fatigued,
and often much alarmed. Next to each other, this dear
child had the nearest place, both in her heart and mine.
The effects were soon apparent: as the spring of 1789 ad-
vanced, her malady rapidly increased ; her pains were almost
incessant, and often intense, and she could seldom lie one
hour in her bed in the same position. . Oh ! my heart, what
didst thou then suffer!

But in April, the God who heareth prayer mercifully
afforded relief, and gave such a blessing to the means em-
ployed, that her pains ceased. And though I believe she
never had an hour of perfect ease, she felt little of the dis-
tressing pains incident to her malady, from that time to the
end of her life, (which was about twenty months,) excepting
at three or four short intervals, which, taken together,
hardly amounted to two hours: and these returns of an-
guish, I thought, were permitted to show me how much I
was indebted to the goodness of God for exempting her
feelings and my sympathy from what would have been
terrible indeed!

In the close of the summer she was able to go to South-
ampton, and returned tolerably well. She was twice at
church in the first week after she came home. She then
went no more abroad, except in a coach, for a little air and
exercise: but she was cheerful, tolerably easy, slept as well
as most people who are in perfect health, and could receive
and converse with her kind friends who visited her.

It was not long after, that she began to have a distaste
for food, which continued and increased ; so that, perhaps,
her death was, at last, rather owing to weakness, from want
of nourishment, than to her primary disorder. Her dislike
was, first, to butcher's meat, of which she could bear neither
the sight nor the smell. Poultry and fish, in their turns,
became equally distasteful. She retained some relish for
small birds, awhile after she had given up the rest; but it
was at a season when they were difficult to be obtained. . I
hope I shall always feel my obligations to the kind friends
who spared no pains to procure some for her, when they
were not to be had in the markets. At that time I set more
value upon a dozen of larks than upon the finest ox in
Smithfield. But her appetite failed to these also, when
they became more plentiful.

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LIFE OF RET. JOHN NEWTON.

0"

Undcr this trying discipline I learnt, more sensibly than
ever, to pity those whose sufferings, of a similar kind, are
aggravated by -poverty. Our distress was not small, yet we
had every thing within reach, that could, in any degree,
conduce to her refreshment or relief; and we had faithful
and affectionate servants, who were always willingly engaged
to their power, yea, as the apostle speaks, beyond then
power, in attending and assisting her, by night and by day.
What must be the feelings of those who, when afflicted with
grievous diseases, pine away, unpitied, unnoticed, without
help, and, in a great measure, destitute of common neces-
saries? This reflection, among others, contributed to quiet
my mind, and to convince me that I had still much more
cause for thankfulness than for complaint.

For about a twelvemonth of her confinement her spirits
were good, her patience was exemplary, and there was a
cheerfulness in her looks and her language that was wonder-
ful. Often the liveliness of her remarks has forced a smiie
from us, when the tears were in our eyes. Whatever little
contrivances she formed for her amusement, in the cour.-c
of the day, she would attend to nothing till she had finished
her stated reading of the Scripture, in which she employed
much time and great attention. I have her Bible by me,
(which I would not part with for half the manuscripts in the
Vatican,) in which almost every principal text, from the be-
ginning to the end of the book, is marked in the margin
with a pencil, by her own dear hand. The good word of
God was her medicine and her food, while she was able to
read it. She read Dr. Watts's Psalms and Hymns, and the
Olney Hymns, in the same manner. There are few of them
in which one, two, or more verses, are not thus marked ;
and in man}', which I suppose she read more frequently,
every verse is marked. ^

But in October the enemy was permitted, for a while,
to take advantage of her bodily weakness, to disturb the
peace and serenity of her mind. Her thoughts became
douded and confused ; and she gradually lost, not only the
comfortable evidence of her own interest in the precious
truths of the Bible, but she lost all hold of the truth itself.
She doubted the truth of the Bible, or whether truth existed ;
and, together with this, she expressed an extreme reluctance
to death, and could not easily bear the most distant hint of

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[96

her approaching end, though we were expecting it daily and
hourly. This was the acme, the highwater-mark of my trial :
this was hard to bear indeed.

My readers, perhaps, will scarcely believe that I derived
some consolation, during this gloomy period, from perceiving
that her attachment to me was very sensibly abated. She
spoke to me with an indifference, of which, a little before,
she was incapable. If, when the Lord's presence was with-
drawn, and she could derive no comfort from his word, she
had found some relief from my being with her, or from hear-
ing me speak, I should have been more grieved. Her affec-
tion to me, confirmed by so many proofs, in the course of
forty years, was not to be impeached by this temporary
suspension of its exercise. I judged the same of the frame
of her mind, as to her spiritual concerns: I ascribed them
both to the same causes — her bodily weakness, and the
power of temptation. She was relieved, in both respects,
after about a fortnight spent in conflict and dismay. The
Lord restored peace to her soul, and then her former ten-
derness to me immediately revived. Then, likewise, she
could calmly speak of her approaching dissolution. She
mentioned some particulars concerning her funeral, and our
domestic concerns, with great composure. But her mind
was not so fully restored to its former tone as to give her
freedom to enlarge upon her hopes and views, as I had
wished, till near her dissolution ; and then she was too low
to speak at all.

One addition to our trial yet remained. It had been her
custom, when she went from her sofa to her bed, to exert
herself for my encouragement, to show me how well she
could walk. But it pleased the Lord that, by some altera-
tion, which affected her spine, she was disabled from moving
herself; and other circumstances rendered it extremely dif-
ficult to move her. It has taken five of us nearly two hours
to remove her from one side of the bed to the other, and,
at times, even this was impracticable: so that she has lain
more than a week exactly in the same spot, without the
possibility of changing her position. All this was necessary
on my account. The rod had a voice, and it was the voice
of the Lord. I understood the meaning no less plainly
than if he had spoken audibly from heaven, and said, " Now
contemplate your idol. Now see what she is whom you

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once presumed to prefer to Me!" Even this bitter cup was
sweetened by the patience and resignation which he gave
her. When I have said, " You suffer greatly,'' her answer
usually was, " I suffer, indeed, but not greatly." And she
often expressed her thankfulness that, though her body was
immovable, she was still permitted the use of her hands.

One of the last sensible concerns she felt, respecting this
world, was when my honored friend, patron, and benefactor,
the late John Thornton, Esq., of Clapham, was removed to
a better. She revered and regarded him, I believe, more
than she did any person upon earth: and she had reason.
Few had nearer access, to know and admire his character;
and perhaps none were under greater, if equal, obligations
to him than we. She knew of his illness, but was always
afraid to inquire after the event ; nor should I have ventured
to inform her, but that the occasion requiring me to leave
her for four or five hours, when I hardly expected to find
her alive at ray return, I was constrained to give her the
reason of my absence. She eagerly replied, " Go by all
means ; I would not have you stay with me upon any con-
sideration." I put the funeral ring I was favored with into
her hands; she put it first to her lips, and then to her eyes,
bedewing it with her tears. I trust they soon met again. But
she survived him more than a month.

Her head became so affected that I could do little more
than sit and look at her. Our intercourse by words was
nearly broken off. She could not easily bear the sound of
the gentlest foot upon the carpet, nor of the softest voice.
On Sunday, the 12th of December, when I was preparing
for church in the morning, she sent for me, and we took a
final farewell, as to this world. She faintly uttered an en-
dearing appellation, which was familiar to her, and gave me
her hand, which I held, while I prayed by her bedside. We
exchanged a few tears ; but I was almost as unable to speiik
as she was. But 1 returned soon after, and said, " If your
mind, as I trust, is in a state of peace, it will be a comfort
to me if you can signify it by holding up your hand." She
held it up, and waved it to and fro several times.

That evening her speech, her sight, and, I believe, her
hearing, wholly failed. She continued perfectly composed,
without taking notice of any thing, or discovering any sign
of pain or uneasiness, till Wednesday evening toward seven.

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o'clock. She then began to breathe very hard ; her breath-
ing might be called groaning, for it was heard in every part
of the house ; but I believe it was entirely owing to the diffi-
culty of respiration, for she lay quite still, with a placid
countenance, as if in a gentle slumber. There was no
start or struggle, nor a feature ruffled. I took my post
by her bed-side, and watched her nearly three hours, with
a candle in my hand, till I saw her breathe her last, on
the 15th of December, 1790, a little before ten in the
evening.

When I was sure she was gone I took off her ring, ac-
cording to her repeated injunction, and put it upon my own
finger. I then kneeled down with the servants who were in
the room, and returned the Lord my unfeigned thanks for
her deliverance, and her peaceful dismission.

How wonderful must be the moment after death ! "What
a transition did she then experience ! She was instantly
freed from sin, and all its attendant sorrows, and, I trust, in-
stantly admitted to join the heavenly choir. That moment
was remarkable to me likewise. It removed from me the
chief object which made another day or hour of life, as to
my own personal concern, desirable. At the same time it
set me free from a weight of painful feelings and anxieties,
under which nothing short of a divine power could have so
long supported me.

I believe it was about two or three months before her
death, when I was walking up and down the room, offering
disjointed prayers, from a heart torn with distress, that a
thought suddenly struck me with unusual force, to this effect :
The promises of God must be true ; surely the Lord will
help me, if I am willing to be helped ! It occurred to me
that we are often led, from a vain complacence in what we
call our sensibility, to indulge that unprofitable grief which
both our duty and our peace require 4is to resist to the ut-
most of our power. 1 instantly said aloud, " Lord, I am
helpless indeed in myself, but I hope I am willing, without
reserve, that thou shouldst help me."

It had been much upon my mind, from the beginning of
this trial, that I was a minister, and that the eyes of many
were upon me ; that my turn of preaching had very much
led me to endeavor to comfort the afflicted, by representing
the Gospel as a catholicon, affording an effectual remedy

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99

for every evil, a full compensation for every want or loss,
to those who truly receive it ; so that though a believer may
be afflicted, he cannot be properly unhappy, unless he gives
way to self-will and unbelief. I had often told my hearers
that a state of trial, if rightly improved, was, to the Chris-
tian, a post of honor, affording the fairest opportunity of ex-
emplifying the power of divine grace, to the praise and glory
of the Giver. It had been, therefore, my frequent daily
prayer that I might not, by impatience or despondency, be
deprived of the advantage my situation afforded me, of con-
firming, by my own practice, the doctrine which I had
preached to others ; and that I might not give them occasion
to apply to me the words of Eliphaz to Job, chap. 4 : 4, 5,
" Thy words have upholder! him that was falling, and thou
hast strengthened the feeble knees ; but now it is come upon
thee, and thou faintest ; it toucheth thee, and thou art trou-
bled !" And I had not prayed in vain. But from the time
that I so remarkably felt myself willing to be helped, I might
truly say, to the praise of the Lord, my heart trusted in
Him, and I was helped indeed. Through the w hole of my
painful trial I attended all my stated and occasional services,
as usual ; and a stranger would scarcely have discovered,
either by my words or looks, that I was in trouble. Many
of our intimate friends were apprehensive that this long
affliction, and especially the closing event, would have over-
whelmed me ; but it was far otherwise. It did not prevent
me from preaching a single sermon, and I preached on the
day of her death.

After she was gone, my willingness to be helped, and my
desire that the Lord's goodness to me might be observed by
others, for their encouragement, made me indifferent to
some laws of established custom, the breach of which is often
more noticed than the violation of God's commands. I was
afraid of sitting at home, and indulging myself, by poring
over my loss ; and therefore I was seen in the street, and
visited some of my serious friends the very next da}'. I like-
wise preached three times while she lay dead in the house.
Some of my brethren kindly offered their assistance ; but as
the Lord was pleased to give me strength, both of body and
mind, I thought it my duty to stand up in my place, as for-
merly. And after she was deposited in the vault I preached

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[100

her funeral sermon,* with little more sensible emotion than
if it had been for another person. I have reason to hope
that many of my hearers were comforted and animated un-
der their afflictions, by what they saw of the Lord's good-
ness to me in my time of need. And I acknowledge that it
was well worth standing a while in the fire, for such an op-
portunity of experiencing and exhibiting the power and
faithfulness of his promises.

I was not supported by lively sensible consolations, but
by being enabled to realize to my mind some great and lead-
ing truths of the word of God. I saw, what indeed 1 knew
before, but never till then so strongly and clearly perceived,
that, as a sinner, I had no right, and as a believer, I could
have no reason to complain. I considered her as a loan,
which He who lent her to me had a right to resume when-
ever He pleased ; and that as I had deserved to forfeit her
every day, from the first, it became me rather to be thank-
ful that she was spared so long to me, than to resign her
with reluctance when called for. Farther, that his sove-
reignty was connected with infinite wisdom and goodness,
and that, consequently, if it were possible for me to alter
any part of his plan, I could only spoil it ; that such a short-
sighted creature as I, so blind to the possible consequences
of my own wishes, was not only unworthy, but unable to
choose well for himself; and that it was therefore my great
mercy and privilege that the Lord condescended to choose
for me. May such considerations powerfully affect the hearts
of my readers under their troubles, and then I shall not re-
gret having submitted to the view of the public, a detail
which may seem more proper for the subject of a private
letter to a friend. They who can feel, will, I hope, excuse
me : and it is chiefly for their sakes that I have written it.

When my wife died the world seemed to die with her, (1
hope, to revive no more.) I see little now but my ministry
and my Christian profession to make a continuance in life
for a single day desirable ; though I am willing to wait my
appointed time. If the world cannot restore her to me (not
that I have the remotest wish that her return was possible)
it can do nothing for me. The Bank of England is too poor

* From a text which I had reserved from my first entrance on the
ministry, for this particular service, if I should surv ive her, and be
able to speak.

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to compensate for such a loss as mine. But the Lord, the
all-sufficient God, speaks, and it is done. Let those who
know him, and trust him, be of good courage. He can give
them strength according to their day ; He can increase their
strength as their trials are increased, to any assignable de-
gree. And what He can do, He has promised He will do.
The power and faithfulness on which the successive changes
of day and night, and of the seasons of the year depend, and
which uphold the stars in their orbits, are equally engaged to
support his people, and to lead them safely and unhurt (if their
path be so appointed) through floods and flames. Though I
believe she has never yet been (and probably never will be)
out of my waking thoughts for five minutes at a time, though
I sleep in the bed in which she suffered and languished so
long, I have not had one uncomfortable day, nor one rest-
less night, since she left me. I have lost a right hand, which
I cannot but miss continually, but the Lord enables me to
go on cheerfully without it.

May his blessing rest upon the reader! May glory, ho-
nor and praise be ascribed to his great and holy name, now
and for ever ! Amen.

The following verses were composed by Mr. Newton, and
sung after her funeral sermon.

Habakkuk, 3 : 17, 18.

The earth, with rich abundance stor'd,

To answer all our wants,
Invites our hearts to praise the Lord

For what his bounty grants.

Flocks, herds, and corn, and grateful fruit,

His gracious hand supplies;
And while our various tastes they suit,

Their prospect cheers our eyes.

To these He adds each tender tie

Of sweet domestic life ;
Endearing joys, the names imply,

Of parent, husband, wife.

But sin has poisoned all below,

Our blessings burdens prove ;
On ev'ry hand we suffer wo,

But most, where most we love

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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[102

Nor vintage, harvest, flocks, nor herds,

Can till the heart's desire;
And oft a worm destroys our gourds,

And all our hopes expire.

Domestic joys, alas ! how rare !

Possessed and known by few '
And they who know them, find they are

As frail and transient too.

But you who love the Savior's voice,

And rest upon his name ;
Amidst these changes may rejoice,

For He is still the same.

The Lord himself will soon appear,

Whom you, unseen, adore;
Then He will wipe off ev'ry tear,

And you shall weep no more.

Mr. N. made this remark on her death, " Just before
Mrs. N's disease became so formidable, I was preaching on
the waters of Egypt being turned into blood. The Egyp-
tians had idolized their river, and God made them loath it.
I was apprehensive it would soon be a similar case with
me." During the very affecting season of Mrs. N's dissolu-
tion, Mr. N., like David, wept and prayed ; but the desire
of his eyes being taken away by the stroke, he too, like
David, " arose from the earth, and came into the temple of
the Lord, and worshipped," and that in a manner which
surprised some of his friends.

Besides which, Mr. N. had a favorite sentiment, which I
have heard him express in different ways, long before he
had so special an occasion for illustrating it in practice.
" God in his providence," he used to say, " is continually
bringing about occasions to demonstrate characters." He
used to instance the case of Achan and Judas among bad
men ; and that of St. Paul, Acts, 27, among good ones.
" If any one," said he, " had asked the centurion who Paul
the prisoner was that sailed with them on board the ship —
it is probable he would have thus replied, ' He is a trou-
blesome enthusiast, who has lately joined himself to a cer-
tain sect. These people affirm that a Jewish malefactor,
who was crucified some years ago at Jerusalem, rose the
third day from the dead ; and this Paul is mad enough to
asset t that Jesus, the leader of their sect, is not only now

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alive, but that he himself has seen him, and is resolved to
live and die with him — Poor crazy creature !' But God
made use of this occasion to discover the real character of
Paul, and taught the centurion, from the circumstances
which followed, to whom it was he owed his direction in the
storm, and for whose sake he received his preservation
through it."

In all trying occasions, therefore, Mr. N. was particularly
impressed with the idea of a Christian, and especially of a
Christian minister, being called to stand forward as an ex-
ample to his flock — to feel himself placed in a post of ho-
nor— a post in which he may not only glorify God, but also
forcibly demonstrate the peculiar supports of the Gospel.
More especially when this could be done (as in his own
case) from no doubtful motive; then it may be expedient to
leave the path of ordinary custom, for the greater reason of
exhibiting both the doctrines of truth and the experience of
their power.

Though I professedly publish none of Mr. N's letters, yet
I shall take the liberty to insert part of one, with which I
am favored by J. Forbes, Esq. of Stanmore Hill, written
to him while at Rome, and dated December 5th, 1796. It
shows the interest which the writer took in the safety of his
friend, and his address in attempting to break the enchant-
ments with which men of taste are surrounded, when stand-
ing in the centre of the fine arts.

" The true Christian, in strict propriety of speech, has
no home here ; he is, and must be, a stranger and a pilgrim
upon earth : his citizenship, treasure, and real home, are in
a better world ; and every step he takes, whether to the east
or to the west, is a step nearer to his Father's house. On
the other hand, when in the path of duty, he is always at
home ; for the whole earth is the Lord's : and as we see
the same sun in England or Italy, in Europe or Asia, so
wherever he is, he equally sets the Lord always before him,
and finds himself equally near the throne of grace at all
times and in all places. God is every where, and, by faith
in the Great Mediator, he dwells in God, and God in him."

" I trust, my dear Sir, that you will carry out and bring
home with you, a determination similar to that of the pa-
triarch Jacob, who vowed a vow, saying, ' If God will be
with me, and will keep me in the way that I go, and will

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[104

give mc bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come
again to my father's house in peace, then shall the Lord be
my God !' May the Lord himself write it on your heart !

" You are now at Rome, the centre of the fine arts ; a
place abounding with every thing to gratify a person of youi
taste. Athens had the pre-eminence in the apostle Paul's
time; and I think it highly probable, from many passages
in his writings, that he likewise had a taste capable of ad-
miring and relishing the beauties of painting, sculpture, and
architecture, which he could not but observe during his abode
in that city: but then he had a higher, a spiritual, a divine
taste, which was greatly shocked and grieved by the igno-
rance, idolatry, and wickedness, which surrounded him, in-
somuch that he could attend to nothing else. This taste,
which cannot be acquired by any effort or study of ours,
but is freely bestowed on all who sincerely ask it of the
Lord, divests the vanities, which the world admire, of their
glare ; and enables us to judge of the most splendid and
specious works of men, who know not God, according to
the declaration of the prophet, ' They hatch cockatrice eggs,
and weave the spider's web.' Much ingenuity is displayed
in the weaving of a cobweb, but when finished it is worth-
less and useless : incubation requires close diligence and at-
tention ; if the hen is too long from her nest, the egg is
spoiled ; but why should she sit at all upon the egg, and
watch it, and warm it night and day, if it only produces a
cockatrice at last"? Thus vanity and mischief are the chief
rulers of unsanctified genius; the artists spin webs, and the
philosophers, by their learned speculations, hatch cock-
atrices, to poison themselves and their fellow-creatures:
few of either sort have one serious thought of that awful
eternity upon the brink of which they stand for a while,
and into the depth of which they successively fall.

" A part of the sentence denounced against the city,
which once stood upon seven hills, is so pointed and gra-
phical, that I must transcribe it: ' And the voice of harpers,
and musicians, and pipers, and trumpeters, shall be heard
no more at all in thee; and no craftsman, of whatsoever
craft he be, shall be found any more in thee, and the light
of a candle shall no more be seen in thee.' Now, I am in-
formed, that, upon certain occasions, the whole cupola of
St. Peter's is covered with lamps, and affords a very mag-

1«>5]

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

105

nificent spectacle : if I saw it, it would remind me of that
time when there will not bo the shining of a single candle
in the city ; for the sentence must be executed, and the
hour may be approaching.

" You kindly inquire after my health : myself and family
are, through the Divine favor, perfectly well ; yet, healthy as
I am, I labor under a growing disorder, for which there is
no cure ; I mean old age. I am not sorry it is a mortal
disease, from which no one recovers ; for who would live
always in such a world as this, who has a scriptural hope of
an inheritance in the world of light 1 I am now in my
seventy-second year, and seem to have lived long enough
for myself; 1 have known something of the evil of life, and
have had a large share of the good. I know what the world
can do, and what it cannot do ; it can neither give nor take
away that peace of God which passeth all understanding ;
it cannot sooth a wounded conscience, nor enable us to
meet death with comfort. That you, my dear Sir, may
have an abiding and abounding experience that the Gospel
is a catholicon, adapted to all our wants and all our feelings,
and a suitable help when every other help fails, is the sin-
cere and ardent prayer of

" Your affectionate friend,

" John Newton."

But in proportion as Mr. N. felt the vanity of earthly
pursuits, he was as feelingly alive to whatever regarded
eternal concerns. Take an instance of this in a visit which
he paid another friend. This friend was a minister who
affected great accuracy in his discourses, and who, on that
Sunday, had nearly occupied an hour in insisting on several
labored and nice distinctions made in his subject. As he
had a high estimation of Mr. N's judgment, he inquired of
him, as they walked home, whether he thought the distinc-
tions just now insisted on were full and judicious? Mr. N.
said he thought them not full, as a very important one had
been omitted. " What can that be ?" said the minister,
M for I had taken more than ordinary care to enumerate
them fully." " I think not," replied Mr. N., " for when
many of your congregation had travelled several miles for a
meal, I think you should not have forgotten the important
distinction which must ever exist between meat and bones."
5*

106

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[106

In the year 1790 Mr. N. had the honorary degree of
D.D. conferred upon him by the university of New- Jersey,
in America, and the diploma sent him. He also received a
work in two volumes, dedicated to him, with the above title
annexed to his name. Mr. N. wrote the author a grateful
acknowledgment for the work, but begged to decline an
honor which he never intended to accept. " I am," said he,
" as one born out of due time.* I have neither the preten-
sion nor wish to honors of this kind. However, therefore,
the university may over-rate my attainments, and thus show
their respect, I must not forget myself; it would be both
vain and improper were I to concur in it."

But Mr. N. had yet another storm to weather. While we
were contemplating the long and rough voyage he had passed,
and thought he had only now to rest in a quiet haven, and
with a fine sunsetting at the close of the evening of his life ;
clouds began to gather again, and seemed to threaten a
wreck at the very entry of the port.

He used to make excursions in the summer to different
friends in the country, endeavoring to make these visits
profitable to them and their neighbors, by his continual
prayers, and the expositions he gave of the scriptures read
at their morning and evening worship. I have heard of some
who were first brought to the knowledge of themselves and
of God by attending his exhortations on these occasions ;
for, indeed, besides what he undertook in a more stated way
at the church, he seldom entered a room but something
both profitable and entertaining fell from his lips. After the

"In a MS. note on a letter dated 15th Dee. 1797, he writes, "Though
I am not so sensibly affected as I could wish, I hope I am truly af-
fected by the frequent reviews I make of my past life. Perhaps the
annals of Thy church scarcely afford an instance in all respects so sin-
gular. Perhaps Thy grace may have recovered some from an equal
degree of apostacy, infidelity, and profligacy: but few of them have
been redeemed from such a state of misery and depression as I was in,
upon the coast of Africa, when Thy unsought mercy wrought for ray
deliverance: but that such a wretch should not only be spared, and
pardoned, but reserved to the honor of preaching Thy Gospel, which
he had blasphemed and renounced, and at length be placed in a very
public situation, and favored with acceptance and usefulness, both
from the pulpit and the press, so that my poor name is known in most
parts of the world where there are any who know Thee — this is won-
derful indeed ! The more Thou hast exalted me, the more 1 ought to
abase myself."

107]

LIFE OF REV. JOIIN NEWTON.

107

death of Miss Cunningham and Mrs. N., his companion in
these summer excursions was his other niece, Miss Elizabeth
Catlett. This young lady had also been brought up by Mr.
and Mrs. N. with Miss Cunningham, and on the death of
the two latter, she became the object of Mr. N's naturally
affectionate disposition. She also became quite necessary
to him by her administrations in his latter years ; she watched
him, walked with him, visited wherever he went; when his
sight failed she read to him, divided his food, and was unto
him all that a dutiful daughter could be.

But in the year 1801 a nervous disorder seized her, by
which Mr. N. was obliged to submit to her being separated
from him. During the twelvemonth it lasted, the weight of
the aflliction, added to his weight of years, seemed to over-
whelm him. I extracted a few of his reflections on the oc-
casion, written on some blank leaves in an edition of his
Letters to a Wife, which he lent me on my undertaking
these Memoirs, and subjoin them in a note.* It may give
the reader pleasure to be informed that Miss Catlett re-
turned home, and gradually recovered.

* " August 1st, 1801. I now enter my 77th year. I have been exer-
cised this year with a trying and unexpected change ; but it is by thy
appointment, my gracious Lord ; and thou art unchangeably wise,
good, and merciful. Thou gavest me my dear adopted child. Thou
didst own my endeavors to bring her up for thee. I have no doubt
that thou hast called herbythy grace. I thank thee forthe many years
comfort (ten) I have had in her, and forthe attention and affection she
has always shown me, exceeding that of most daughters to theirown
parents. Thou hast now tried me, as thou didst Abraham, in my old
age; when my eyes are failing, and my strength declines. Thou hast
called for my Isaac, who had so long been my chief stay and staff, but
it was thy chief blessing that made her so. A nervous disorder has
seieed her, and I desire to leave her under thy care ; and chiefly pray
for myself, that I may be enabled to wait thy time and will, without
betraying any signs of impatience or despondency unbecoming my
profession and character. Hitherto thou hast helped me; and to thee
I look for help in future. Let all issue in thy glory, that my friends
and hearers may be encouraged by seeing how I am supported ; let
thy strength be manifest in my weakness, and thy grace be sufficient
for me, and let all finally work together for our good. Amen. I aim
to say from my heart, Not my will, but thine, be done. But though
thou hast in a measure made my spirit willing, thou knowest, and 1
feel, that the flesh is weak. Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.
Lord, [ submit, subdue every rebellious thought that dares arise against
thy will. Spare my eyes, if it please thee: but, above all, strengthen
my faith and love."

t Mr. Newton's Letters to a Niece were written to her: they are
published by the American Tract Society ; Series V. No. 7.

108

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[108

It was with a mixture of delight and surprise that the
friends and hearers of this eminent servant of God beheld
him bringing forth such a measure of fruit in extreme age.
Though then almost eighty years old, his sight nearly gone,
and incapable, through deafness, of joining in conversation,
yet his public ministry was regularly continued, and main-
tained with a considerable degree of his former animation.
His memory, indeed, was observed to fail, but his judgment
in divine things still remained ; and though some depression
of spirits was observed, which he used to account for from
his advanced age, his perception, taste, and zeal for the
truths he had long received and taught, were evident. Like
Simeon, having seen the salvation of the Lord, he now only
waited and prayed to depart in peace.

After Mr. N. was turned of eighty, some of his friends
feared he might continue his public ministrations too long;
they marked not only his infirmities in the pulpit, but felt
much on account of the decrease of his strength and of his
occasional depressions. Conversing with him in January,
1806, on the latter, he observed that he had experienced
nothing which in the least affected the principles he had
felt and taught ; that his depressions were the natural result
of fourscore years, and that, at any age, we can only enjoy
that comfort from our principles which God is pleased to
send. " But," replied I, " in the article of public preach-
ing, might it not be best to consider your work as done,
and stop before you evidently discover you can speak no
longer?" "I cannot stop," said he, raising his voice;
" What ! shall the old African blasphemer stop while he
can speak ?"

In every future visit I perceived old age making rapid
strides. At length his friends found some difficulty in mak-
ing themselves known to him : his sight, his hearing, and
his recollection, exceedingly failed; but, being mercifully
kept from pain, he generally appeared easy and cheerful.
Whatever he uttered was perfectly consistent with the prin-
ciples he had so long and so honorably maintained. Calling
to see him a few days before he died, with one of his most
intimate friends, we could not make him recollect either of
us ; but seeing him afterward, when sitting up in his chair, I
found so much intellect remaining as produced a short and
affectionate reply, though he was utterly incapable of con-
versation

109]

LIFE OF REV. JOIIN NEWTON.

109

3Ir. N. declined in this very gradual way, till at length it
was painful to ask him a question, or attempt to rouse fa-
culties almost gone ; still his friends were anxious to get a
word from him, and those friends who survive him will be
as anxious to learn the state of his mind in his latest hours.
It is quite natural thus to inquire, though it is not important
how such a decided character left this world. I have heard
Mr. N. say, when he has heard particular inquiry madi;
about the last expressions of an eminent believer, " Tell
me not how the man died, but how he lived."

Still I say it is natural to inquire, and I will meet the d« •
sire (not by trying to expand uninteresting particulars, but)
as far as I can collect encouraging facts ; and 1 learn, from a
paper kindly sent me by his family, all that is interesting
and authentic.

About a month before Mr. N's death Mr. Smith's niece
was sitting by him, to whom he said, " It is a great thing to
die ; and when flesh and heart fail, to have God for the
strength of our heart, and our portion for ever : I know
whom I have believed, and he is able to keep that which I
have committed unto him against that day. Henceforth
there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the
Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give me at that day."

When Mrs. Smith (his niece, formerly Miss Catlett)
came into the room, he said, " I have been meditating on a
subject, 1 Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will de-
clare what he hath done for my soul.' "

At another time he said, " More light, more love, more
liberty — Hereafter I hope, when I shut my eyes on the
things of time, I shall open them in a better world. What
a thing it is to live under the shadow of the wings of the
Almighty! Iam going the way of all flesh." And when
one replied, " The Lord is gracious," he answered, " If it
were not so, how could I dare to stand before him?"

The Wednesday before he died Mrs. G asked him

if his mind was comfortable ; he replied, " I am satisfied
with the Lord's will."

Mr N. seemed sensible to his last hour, but expressed
nothing remarkable after these words. He departed on the
2 J st, and was buried in the vault of his church the 31st
of December, 1807, having left the following injunction, in
a letter, for the direction of his executors.

110

LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON.

[110

" I propose writing an epitaph for myself, if it may be
put up, on a plain marble tablet, near the vestry-door, to
the following purport :

JOHN NEWTON, Clehk,
Once an Infidel and Libertine,
A servant of slaves in Africa,
Was, by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior,
JESUS CHRIST,
Preserved, restored, pardoned,
And appointed to preach the Faith,
(He had long labored to destroy,)
Near sixteen years at Olney, in Bucks,
And . . years in this church.
On Feb. 1, 1750, he married
MARY,

Daughter of the late Georgt Catlett,
Of Chatham, Kent.
He resigned her, to the Lord who gave her,
On the 15th of December, 1790.

" And I earnestly desire that no other monument, and
no inscription but to this purport, may be attempted for me."

The following is a copy of the beginning of Mr. Newton'*
will, dated June 13, 1803:—

" In the name of God, Amen. I John Newton, of Cole-
man-street Buildings, in the parish of St. Stephen, Cole-
man-street, in the city of London, Clerk, being, through
mercy, in good health and of sound and disposing mind,
memory, and understanding, although in the seventy-eighth
year of my age, do, for the settling of my temporal concerns,
and for the disposal of all the worldly estate which it hath
pleased the Lord in his good providence to give me, make
this my last Will and Testament as follows. I commit my
soul to my gracious God and Savior, who mercifully spared
and preserved me when I was an apostate, a blasphemer,
and an infidel; and delivered me from that state of misery
on the coast of Africa into which my obstinate wickedness
had plunged me ; and who has been pleased to admit me
(though most unworthy) to preach his glorious Gospel. I
rely with humble confidence upon the atonement and media-
tion of the Lord Jesus Christ, God and man, which I have
often proposed to others as the only foundation whereon a
sinner can build his hope ; trusting that he will guard and
guide me through the uncertain remainder of my life, and

Ill]

FAMILIAR REMARKS.

Ill

that he will then admit me into his presence in his heavenly
kingdom. I would have my body deposited in the vault
under the parish church of Saint Mary Woolnoth, close to
the coffins of my late dear wife and my dear niece, Eliza-
beth Cunningham ; and it is my desire that my funeral may
be performed with as little expense as possible, consistent
with decency."

Remarks made by Mr. Newton in Familiar Conversation.

While the mariner uses the loadstone, the philosopher
may attempt to investigate the cause; but after all, in steer-
ing through the ocean, he can make no other use of it than
the mariner.

If an angel were sent to find the most perfect man, he
would probably not find him composing a body of divinity,
but perhaps a cripple in a poor-house, whom the parish wish
dead, and humbled before God with far lower thoughts of
himself than others think of him.

When a Christian goes into the world because he sees
it is his call, yet, while he feels it also his cross, it will not
hurt him.

Satan will seldom come to a Christian with a gross temp-
tation : a green log and a candle may be safely left together ;
but bring a few shavings, then some small sticks, and then
larger, and you may soon bring the green log to ashes.

If two angels were sent from heaven to execute a divine
command, one to conduct an empire, and the other to sweep
a street in it, they would feel no inclination to change em-
ployments.

What some call providential openings are often powerful
temptations; the heart, in wandering, cries, Here is a way
opened before me: but, perhaps, not to be trodden but
rejected.

I should have thought mowers very idle people ; but
they work while they whet their scythes. Now devotedness
to God, whether it mows or whets the scythe, still goes on
with the work.

A Christian should never plead spirituality for being a
sloven ; if he be but a shoe-cleaner, he should be the best
in the parish.

My principal method of defeating heresy, is by esta-

112

FAMILIAR REMARKS.

[112

blishing truth. One proposes to fill a bushel with tares;
now if I can fill it first with wheat, I shall defy his attempts.

When some people talk of religion, they mean they have
heard so many sermons, and performed so many devotions,
and thus mistake the means for the end. But true religion
is an habitual recollection of God and intention to serve
him, and this turns every thing into gold. We are apt to
suppose that we need something splendid to evince our de-
votion, but true devotion equals things — washing plates and
cleaning shoes is a high office, if performed in a right spirit.
If three angels were sent to earth, they would feel perfect
indifference who should perform the part of prime-minister,
parish minister, or watchman.

Many have puzzled themselves about the origin of evil;
I observe there is evil, and that there is a way to escape it,
and with this I begin and end.

Consecrated things under the law were first sprinkled
with blood, and then anointed with oil, and thenceforward
were no more common. Thus under the Gospel, every
Christian has been a common vessel for profane purposes;
but when sprinkled with the blood of Christ, and anointed
by God the Father (2 Cor. 1 : 21,) he becomes separated
and consecrated to God.

I would not give a straw for that assurance which sin
will not damp. If David had come from his adultery, and
had talked of his assurance at that time, I should have des-
pised his speech.

A spirit of adoption is the spirit of a child ; he may dis-
oblige his father, yet he is not afraid of being turned out of
doors: the union is not dissolved, though the communion is.
He is not well with his father, therefore must be unhappy,
as their interests are inseparable.

We often seek to apply cordials when the patient is not
prepared for them, and it is the patient's advantage, that he
cannot take a medicine when prematurely offered. When
a man comes to me and says, " I am quite happy," I aro
not sorry to find him come again with some fears. I never
saw a work stand well without a check. " I only want,*
says one, " to be sure of being safe, and then I will go on.''
No; perhaps, then you will go off.

For an old Christian to say to a young one, " Stand it
my evidence," is like a man who has with difficulty climbei

113]

FAMILIAR REMARKS.

113

by a ladder or scaffolding to the top of the house, and cries
to one at the bottom, " This is a place for a prospect — come
up at a step."

A Christian in the world is like a man who has had a
long intimacy with one, whom at length he finds out to have
been the murderer of a kind father; the intimacy, after this,
will surely be broken.

"Except a man be born again, he cannot see the king-
dom of God." A man may live in a deep mine in Hungary,
never having seen the light of the sun ; he may have re-
ceived accounts of prospects, and by the help of a candle
may have examined a few engravings of them ; but let him
be brought out of the mine, and set on the mountain, what
a difference appears !

Candor will always allow much for inexperience. I have
been thirty years forming my own views, and in the course
of this time some of my hills have been sinking, and some
of my valleys have risen ; but how unreasonable would it
be to expect all this should take place in another person,
and that in the course of a year or two.

Candor forbids us to estimate a character from its acci-
dental blots. Yet it is thus that David, and others, haw-
been treated.

There is the analogy of faith: it is a master key which
not only opens particular doors, but carries you through the
whole house ; but an attachment to a rigid system is dan-
gerous. Luther once turned out the epistle of St. James,
because it disturbed his system. I shall preach, perhaps,
very usefully upon two seemingly opposite texts, while kept
apart; but if I attempt nicely to reconcile them, it is ten to
one if I don't begin to bungle.

I can conceive a living man without an arm or a leg, but
not without a head or a heart; so there are some truths
essential to vital religion, and which all awakened souls are
taught.

Apostacy, in all its branches, takes its rise from atheism.
" I have set the Lord always before me," &c.

We are surprised at the fall of a famous professor, but,
in the sight of God, he was gone before ; it is only we that
have now first discovered it. " He that despiseth small
things, shall fall by little and little."

There are critical times of danger. After great services,

114

FAMILIAR REMARKS.

[114

honors, and consolations, we should stand upon our guard.
Noah, IiOt, David, Solomon, fell in these circumstances.
Satan is a footpad : a footpad will not attack a man in go-
ing to the bank, but in returning with his pocket full of
money.

A Christian is like a young nobleman, who, on going to
receive his estate, is at first enchanted with its prospects ;
this in a course of time may wear off, but a sense of the
value of the estate grows daily.

When we first enter into the divine life, we propose to
grow rich ; God's plan is to make us feel poor.

Good men have need to take heed of building upon
groundless impressions. Mr. Whitfield had a son who, as
he imagined, was born to be a very extraordinary man ; but
the son soon died, and the father was cured of his mistake.

1 remember, in going to undertake the care of a congre-
gation, I was reading as I walked in a green lane, " Fear
not, Paul, I have much people in this city." But I soon
afterward was disappointed in finding that Paul was not
John, and that Corinth was not Warwick.

Christ has taken our nature into heaven to represent us;
and has left us on earth with his nature to represent him.

Worldly men will be true to their principles ; and if we
were as true to ours, the visits between the two parties
would be short and seldom.

A Christian in the world is like a man transacting his
affairs in the rain. He will not suddenly leave his client,
because it rains ; but the moment the business is done, he
is off: as it is said in the Acts, " Being let go, they went to
their own company."

God's word is certainly a restraint ; but it is such a re-
straint as the irons which prevent children from getting into
the fire.

God deals with us as we do with our children ; he first
speaks, then gives a gentle stroke, at last a blow.

The religion of a sinner stands on two pillars, namely, /
what Christ did for us in his flesh, and what he performs in
us by his Spirit. Most errors arise from an attempt to se-
parate these two.

Man is not taught any thing to purpose till God becomes
his teacher, and then the glare of the world is put out, and
the value of the soul rises in full view. A man's present

115]

FAMILIAR REMARKS.

115

sentiments may not be accurate, but we make too much of
scntimens. We pass a field with a tew blades, we call it a
field of wheat ; but here is no wheat ; no, not in perfec-
tion, but wheat is sown, and full ears may be expected.

Contrivers of systems on the earth are like contrivers of
systems in the heavens ; where the sun and moon keep tho
same course in spite of the philosophers.

A man always in society is one always on the spend ; on
the other hand, a mere solitary is at his best but a candle in
an empty room.

If we were upon the watch for improvement, the com-
mon news of the day would furnish it ; the falling of the
tower in Siloam, and the slaughter of the Galileans, were
the news of the day which our Lord improved.

The generality make out their righteousness by compar-
ing themselves with some others whom they think worse ;
thus a woman of the town, who was in the Lock Hospital,
was offended at a minister speaking to her as a sinner, be-
cause she had never picked a pocket.

Take away a toy from a child and give him another, and
he is satisfied ; but if he be hungry, no toy will do. Thus,
as new-born babes, true believers desire the sincere milk of
the word; and the desire of grace in this way is grace.

One said that the great saints hi the calendar were many
of them poor sinners ; Mr. N. replied they were poor saints
indeed, if they did not feel that they were great sinners.

The Lord has reason far beyond our ken, for opening a
wide door while he stops the mouth of a useful preacher.
John Bunyan would not have done half the good he did, if
he had remained preaching in Bedford instead of being shut
up in Bedford prison.

f Do not tell me of your feelings. A traveller would be
glad of fine weather, but if he be a man of business, he will
go on. Bunyan says, You must not judge of a man's haste
by his horse, for when the horse can hardly move you may
see, by the rider's urging him, what a hurry he is in.

Professors who own the doctrines of free grace, often
act inconsistently with their own principles when they are
angry at the defects of others.

We should take care that we do not make our profession
of religion a receipt in full for all other obligations. A man
truly illuminated will no more despise others than Barti

116

FAMILIAR REMARKS.

meus, after his own eyes were opened, would take a stick
and beat every blind man he met.

It is pure mercy that negatives a particular request. A
miser would pray very earnestly for gold, if he belisved
prayer would gain it ; whereas, if Christ had any favor to
him he would take his gold away. A child walks in the
garden in spring, and sees cherries ; he knows they are
good fruit, and therefore asks for them. " No, my dear,"
says the father, " they are not yet ripe ; stay till the season."

If I cannot take pleasure in infirmities, I can sometimes
feel the profit of them. I can conceive a king to pardon a
rebel, and take him into his famity, and then say, "I appoint
you for a season to wear a fetter. At a certain season I will
send a messenger to knock it off. In the mean time this
fetter will serve to remind you of your state ; it may hum-
ble you and restrain you from rambling."

The heir of a great estate, while a child, thinks more of
a few shillings in his pocket than of his inheritance. So a
Christian is often more elated by some frame of heart than
by his title to glory.

I feel like a man who has no money in his pocket, but is
allowed to draw for all he wants upon one infinitely rich ;
I am, therefore, at once both a beggar and a rich man.

I went one day to Mrs. G 's just after she had lost

all her fortune ; I could not be surprised to find her in
tears, but she said, " I suppose you think I am crying for
my loss, but that is not the case : I am now weeping to think
I should feel so much uneasiness on this account." After
that I never heard her speak again upon the subject as long
as she- lived.

Sometimes I compare the troubles which we have to un-
dergo in the course of the year, to a great bundle of faggots,
far too large for us to lift. But God does not require us to
carry the whole at once ; he mercifully unties the bundle,
and gives us first one stick, which we are to carry to-da}',
and then another, which we are to carry to-morrow, and so
on. This we might easily manage, if we would only take
the burden appointed for us each day ; but we choose to in-
crease our troubles by carrying yesterday's stick over again
to-day, and adding to-morrow's burden to our load, before
we are required to bear it.

THE END.

I THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY I

* f

j^j IX ADDITION TO BETWEEN FOUR AND FIVE HUNDRED ^

TRACTS

CHILDREN'S TRACTS,

HAVE PUBLISHED SEVERAL

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& OCCASIONAL VOLUMES, |

OF A

HIGHLY SPIRITUAL AND EVANGELICAL

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CHARACTER, .-.

Which are sold at the lowest prices, with reference to pro-
moting their most extensive circulation and usefulness. i

AMONG THESE OCCASIONAL VOLUMES, ARC

w Doddridge's Rise and Progress of Religion in the
M Soul.

Baxter's Saints' Everlasting Rest.

Twelve Sermons to the Aged, (in large type). By
Rev. George Burder.

CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHY, VIZ.

1. Memoir of Rev John Newton.

2. do. of Archbishop Leighton.

$j 3. do. of Rev. C. F. Swartz, Missionary
Isdia.

*

*L * To which, other publications of a kindred chu

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