[ 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 OB 1 



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- 



8 



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, 



12 



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 



14 



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} r ed 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. W r e 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 



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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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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 



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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 



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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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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 



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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 



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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." 



82 



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 



84 



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 



85] 



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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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON. 



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 



88 



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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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LIFE OF REV. JOHN NEWTON. 



103 



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- 



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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* 



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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." 



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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. 



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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 



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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 

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

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AMONG THESE OCCASIONAL VOLUMES, ARC 

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

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Twelve Sermons to the Aged, (in large type). By 
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CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHY, VIZ. 

1. Memoir of Rev John Newton. 

2. do. of Archbishop Leighton. 

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



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DEMCO 38-297 



