Who was John Newton?

And let us listen to John Newton. He had got as far from God as a man out of hell could, and in the hold of a fast sinking ship, when all hope had been abandoned, he cried to God for mercy, and saw as in a vision the Saviour on the cross, and prostrate at His feet he was saved, and afterwards wrote: "I saw One hanging on a tree, In agonies of blood, Who fixed His eyes of love on me As near His cross I stood. That look of love and sorrow said: My life for thee I give; This blood is for thy ransom paid, I die that thou mayest live! O never till my latest breath Can I forget that look; It seemed to charge me with His death, Though not a word He spoke. That look of love and sorrow said: My life for thee I give; This blood is for thy ransom paid, I die that thou mayest live."

That was the way that John Newton entered into the blessing, and he could not forget it, nor did he intend that any one else should forget it after his death, as one who has written of him has said, for he gave instructions that the only epitaph on his grave should be, John Newton, Clerk, Once an Infidel and Libertine, A servant of slaves in Africa, Was, by the mercy of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, Preserved, Restored, Pardoned, And appointed to preach the Faith He had so long laboured to destroy.

John Newton was born on the twenty-fourth of July, in the year 1725. His mother was a pious, gentle woman, and it was her heart's desire to bring up her son "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." With this object in view she stored his memory at an early age with portions and chapters of Scripture, besides many hymns and poems. But she died when he was seven years old, and his father, who was a sea-captain in the Mediterranean trade, married again soon after her death.

About the beginning of January, 1748, they set sail for England. The voyage, as it was then made, was perhaps more than 7,000 miles. On account of the trade winds, they first sailed westward toward the coast of Brazil, then to the banks of Newfoundland, and thence directly to England. On the voyage home, Newton took up and commenced to read a copy of "Thomas à Kempis." As he read, the thought would force itself upon him, What if these things are true? He determined to banish these thoughts from his mind, so closed the book and joined in some vain conversation with his companions. He retired to his berth, but was startled out of his sleep by a violent sea which broke over the vessel and filled the cabin where he lay. He supposed that the ship was sinking and attempted to reach the deck. He was met on the ladder by the captain, who asked him to bring a knife. He returned for the knife, and the person who ascended in his place, was immediately washed overboard. A dreadful storm had overtaken them, and for four weeks their disabled vessel was tossed and drifted about at the mercy of the winds and waves. Death stared them constantly in the face, and Newton's free-thought failed and forsook him utterly. Like Jonah, he realized himself to be in the grip of God's mighty hand.

He then thought upon his many sins, professions and relapses, and great was his misery. He concluded at the first that his sins were too many and great to be forgiven, and many passages of Scripture, such as Prov. 1:24-31; Heb. 6:4-6; 2 Peter 2:20, etc., returned to memory and nearly drove him to despair. He had on board a New Testament and a volume of Bishop Beveridge's sermons, one of which, on the Saviour's death, affected him much. He was particularly struck with the parable of the fig-tree, also the conversion of Paul, and the reception of the prodigal. Before their arrival in Ireland he had trusted his soul to Christ, whose precious blood had power to cleanse away his every sin. He had much yet to learn, but he stepped from that broken, water-logged ship a new creature in Christ Jesus — saved by the rich and sovereign grace of God.

Reader, this is the man who afterwards wrote for the Christian Church that tenderest of heart-touching hymns, "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds." We see in this case the depths of degradation to which the most refined nature among men may descend. We learn, too, the longsuffering grace of our Saviour-God who is, adored be His name, "rich in mercy." "How sweet the name of Jesus sounds In a believer's ear ! It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, And drives away his fear. It makes the wounded spirit whole, And calms the troubled breast; 'Tis manna to the hungry soul, And to the weary, rest. Dear Name! the Rock on which I build! My Shield and Hiding-place! My never-failing Treasury, filled With boundless stores of grace! Jesus, my Saviour, Shepherd, Friend! Thou Prophet, Priest and King! My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End! Accept the praise I bring."

Think of a man like J. Newton, that slave trader, a wicked, obscene, swearing shipmaster, and as he comes under the power of the Christ of God there comes from his pen those beautiful words that we so often sing:-

He made a voyage to Venice in a vessel in charge of a friend of his father's, and the importunity and opportunity to sin proving all too strong, he again lapsed rapidly into a state of open sin and wickedness. He was alarmed for a time by a remarkable dream (which our want of space forbids relating), but the impression soon wore off, and then followed that long course of debasing wickedness, detailed by him in a series of letters called, "From the Service of Sin," etc. He makes mention of an infidel ship-mate at this time who became his intimate companion. He says of him, "He was a person of exceedingly good natural talents and much observation. He was the greatest master of what is called the free-thinking school I remember to have met with, and he knew how to insinuate his sentiments in the most plausible way. His zeal also was equal to his address; he could hardly have labored more in the cause if he had expected to gain heaven by it." This miserable man, he relates, was afterwards overtaken by a storm on a voyage from Lisbon, and, though the vessel and crew escaped, a great sea broke over the decks and swept him into eternity.

Newton was made a midshipman in the navy, but he was soon degraded by his misconduct, and publicly stripped and whipped. This enraged him so against the officer in command that he determined, if possible, to take his life. He says it was the hope of living to effect this that prevented him from taking his own life. His conscience became utterly seared, and he was given up to such moral blindness that he firmly believed that after death he should cease to be.

These words have been written with the desire of emphasising the all-sufficiency of Christ. As John Newton, the converted slave-trader, has expressed it so beautifully in the hymn, "How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds" — Our never-failing treasury filled With boundless stores of grace.

John Newton, converted slaver and drunkard, wrote truly,

John Newton, the converted blasphemer and slave-trader, wrote out of the fullness of his heart, “What think ye of Christ? is the test, To try both your state and your scheme; You cannot be right in the rest, Unless you think rightly of Him.” In these stirring lines we get …

John Newton, whose words are quoted, went on to say, "I dare not confide in His blood, nor on His protection rely, unless I were sure He is God."

Be assured these people never know themselves. There is an anecdote of John Newton: when a person wrote to him he was in his C of Cardiphonia (a work I quite forget), he replied that he had forgotten one trait of C, that he never knew himself to be there. … We must not confound righteousness with experience, though complete judgment of self ministers to the knowledge of divine righteousness.