A LETTER

Letter from John Newton to his wife, written at sea, while returning from his third voyage to Africa.

August 3, 1754

If our reckonings are right, I am now within a days sail of Ireland; and I may hope (if the fair wind continues) to see Liverpool within a week. My passage thus far, like all the passages I have made since you have owned an interest in me, has been remarkably exempted from disagreeable events and apparent dangers. As I hope I shall not have occasion to send you another weekly sheet before I see you, I would employ this on a closing invitation, to join with me in praising the great Author of all good for his numerous and repeated mercies and blessings vouchsafed to us both; and the rather at present, as this day will conclude another year of my life. How much reason have I to say, with David, “O Lord, thou crownest the year with thy goodness.”

We are never in a better disposition to ask, and obtain further favours from the Lord, than when our hearts are impressed with a grateful sense of those we have already received. We have, indeed reason to praise him above many; for his dispensations to us have been singularly favourable. His goodness has been manifested from the first moments of our life; yea, still more early, from the circumstances of our birth. It was by the ordination of His kind providence, that we were born in an age and land of light and liberty, and not among the millions who have no knowledge of the means of grace, or of the hope of glory; nor among the multitudes who are trained up, from their cradles, to substitute superstition for religion. But I shall defer speaking of spiritual mercies till I have said something of our temporal blessings.

Perhaps we have sometimes been tempted to think that, because we do not possess titles and estates, and are not of high distinction and estimation in the world, we have received nothing extraordinary; but two reflections will, I hope, suffice to correct this mistake.

Let us, in the first place, think of the miseries we know or observe in the world. How many are crippled or maimed in their bodies, or disordered in their minds? How many, at this minute, are nearly perishing through extreme want of the common necessaries of life? How many are chained to their beds by sickness and excruciating pains, and can find no ease by day or by night? not to insist on the more deplorable case of those who are suffering the agonies of a wounded spirit, or a terrified conscience. Let us reflect on the miseries and outrages which the scourge of war brings upon cities, provinces, and whole nations. Or, if those scenes are too shocking to dwell upon, it will suffice to take the estimate much lower. Let us look round us at home, amongst our own acquaintances, or, at furthest, within the bounds of the newspapers. How many fatherless—how many widows, do we hear of? How many, from happy prospects, rendered suddenly miserable by what we call casualties? Take these things together, and let us ask our conscience if a continued exemption from such a variety of evils, and a constant supply of the many wants we have in common with others are not favours which we enjoy, and which are afforded, comparatively to few?

But further; let us, in the second place, turn our eyes to those who are placed in the smoother walks of life, whom customary speech calls “the happy.” Run over what you know of those who are most noticed for personal qualifications, for their riches, honours, or the variety of their means and modes of pleasure; and then let us ask ourselves if there is any one amongst all these with whom we would be content to change in all points? If we should not accept such a proposal, as surely we should not, (I answer for you, no less confidently than for myself,) it follows, evidently, that we have more to be thankful for (our own partial selves being judges) than many of those whom, perhaps, we have been disposed to envy; and if so, it is equally plain that there are no two persons upon the face of the earth more indebted to an indulgent Providence than ourselves.

If I mention particulars, I must begin with what I have most at heart, our mutual, happy affection. In this, at least, we are rich; and this is a kind of wealth, with which gold and silver will bear no comparison; nor would many cartloads of them purchase a single grain of so great a blessing. But let us not ascribe this to ourselves. How manifest, how powerful and marvellous, was the hand of God in bringing us together? For myself, I have reason to say, (as you well know,) that never was attempt of the kind successful under greater improbabilities; and yet, so peculiar was our turn, that had we missed each other, perhaps there was not one of each sex in the kingdom that could have made us so entirely happy. Then, after marriage, it was not impossible for us, more than others, to decline into that satiety and indifference so much complained of, and so often observed. If we had sunk no lower than into a cold esteem, a sort of mechanical good-will, the world might have judged charitably that we were well matched; but we could not have been able to write, to speak, to look, and to feel as we do now. But further, when all that we do possess was granted, we might still have been unhappy without the especial protection of God. We were liable to sickness, death, and a variety of distresses, which, if they had not impaired our love, would have made it productive of more pain than pleasure. But, in this respect, we have been no less distinguished than in the rest. I can give you no idea of the many evils and dangers which surrounded me in my last two voyages; nor can I recount how many fell beside me, and at my right hand, who had equal prospects, better constitutions and perhaps superior skill. But this was not all, nor even half; for I found, upon my return, that my dearest M---- was preserved to me, and had always the satisfaction to meet you in the most agreeable manner I could wish. And I have been conducted towards you thus far in safety the third time, and my hopes still flourish.

To the prime article, what we are to each other, many may be added, which, though subordinate, are very valuable. The union and harmony of every branch of our family; an easy, sufficient way of life, creditable and decent, if not splendid. But want of room prevents me from enlarging on these items, and from the mention of several more; for I am not willing to fill the sheet with what relates merely to this transitory state. The blessings I have recounted are, in themselves, great; but when compared with the views revealed to us by the Gospel, they sink at once in their importance, and become, any further than subservient to our spiritual interest, less than nothing, and vanity. All advantages of this kind might have been permitted us for the term of a frail life, and yet we might have lived and died strangers to God, and to true peace; nay, we certainly should, had we been left to ourselves.

Let us, therefore, praise the mercy and goodness of God, for conveying to us all his gifts in the channel of redeeming love; and for leading us to build our hopes upon the mediation of the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by being made a curse for us, and dying upon the cross, has taken out that curse and evil which the transgression of our first parents had entailed upon the whole lower creation. Let us praise the Lord, that, though he has blessed us with so much of our heart’s desire, he has enabled us to hope that he has not appointed us all our portion of good in this life. Let us rejoice, not merely in our comforts upon earth, but rather in the trust we have that our names are written in heaven. Let us receive our Lord’s gifts with thankfulness, and improve them to his service; and may they be doubly welcome to us, as tokens of his love, and earnests of his further gracious designs in our favour. And, oh! may the consciousness of our past neglect, and our unsuitable returns for all his benefits, inspire us with redoubled dilligence and care for the future, and engage us in a humble and daily application to our great Surety, who has undertaken to pay all our debts. And may you, my dearest M----, appear tomorrow at his table with these views, acknowledging that our talents have been all of his bounty,. and the abuse of them, yours and mine, and all that we can properly call our own. May your confessions end in peace, and your sorrow terminate in joy, in receiving the pledges of his dying love. You will remember me, and I shall endeavour to be with you in spirit: and I trust, on the next sacrament day, I shall accompany you in person; and before that time, I hope we shall be permitted, with one heart and one voice, to praise the Lord, our light, and strength, and salvation, who holds our souls in peace, and suffers not our feet to be moved. O Lord, thou has dealt wonderfully with us; therefore will we exalt thy glorious name!

I am unalterably yours,

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