We all know well the story of John Newton, the unrepentant slave owner who abruptly repented, and became the author of what is likely the world’s best-known hymn, “Amazing Grace.” Because we have our hymnody HEA (happily ever after), it’s rare that anyone asks, “And then what happened?” Because “Amazing Grace” was not, in fact, the end of Newton’s story.
Having retired from the lucrative (!) realm of human trafficking, newborn abolitionist-turned-preacher John Newton needed to fill his time with restitution – because that is the true work of repentance, repair. The Reformation-era church fathers were less…convinced, but finally were talked around to giving John Newton a parish… in Olney, Buckinghamshire. Olney was not a posh assignment at all, as its main claim to fame was lace and poverty. While part of the famous “Bucks” lace industry which was a major 16th to 19th-century English cottage industry renowned for producing delicate “Bucks Point” bobbin lace, as a commercial cottage trade it relied heavily on the hands and eyes of women and small children. These workers were disenfranchised, historically pale and unhealthy, and barely surviving. They did sedentary handwork under conditions of low light, low heat, and very little pay. The tedious work was made even more challenging by intermittent recessions and a fluctuating demand for product, which depended on the whims of fashion, politics, and those with the money to employ lace-workers.
Into these straitened circumstances came John Newton, who was joined two years later by the poet William Cowper, who had chanced to meet Newton after a lengthy stay at a asylum. William Cowper was known for his somber poetry by this time – and for his frequent bounts of “madness,” which we can now assume was a severe, cyclical depression, similar to bipolar disorder. In addition to his duties for Olney parish, John Newton undertook to support William Cowper. He mentored through his January depressions, and urged his heart upwards when he suffered the worst of things. The two talked poetry and writing, and set about to write together what later came to be called “The Olney Hymns.” Of those writings turned hymns Cowper in 1733 wrote a poem called “Conflict: Light Shining out of Darkness” which later became #30 in our current hymnal (#270 in the old one) God Moves in a Mysterious Way.
Conflict: Light Shining Out of Darkness
God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill;
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev’ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow’r.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his work in vain;
God is his own interpreter,
And he will make it plain.
A much older hymn, “God Moves” isn’t popularly sung in many churches, but especially verses four through six are a treasure for hard times. Imagine the words read through the lens of an impoverished people – Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take! Imagine the place from which these words came – the pen of William Cowper, who did eventually succumb to his mental illness, but who fought his brain chemistry faithfully, mightily, until the end. Think of Cowper’s relief when he looks upon his Creator, who is God’s own interpreter, making plain the way through to light from utter darkness, and singing us all safely home.
Notes from “Insanity and Spiritual Songs in the Soul of a Saint,” referencing Gilbert Thomas’ William Cowper and the Eighteenth Century, Ivor Nocholson and Watson, 1935, p. 204.