ger read his text, his friends advised him to
cease preaching. His answer was: "What! shall the old African blasphemer
stop while he can speak?"

When he was nearly eighty years old it was necessary for a helper to
stand in the pulpit to help him read his manuscript sermons. One Sunday
Newton had twice read the words, "Jesus Christ is precious." "You have
already said that twice," whispered his helper; "go on." "John," said
Newton, turning to his assistant in the pulpit, "I said that twice, and I
am going to say it again." Then the rafters rang as the old preacher
shouted, "_Jesus Christ is precious_!" Newton's whole life may be said to
be summed up in the words of one of his appealing hymns:

Amazing grace! how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found--
Was blind, but now I see.

A Hymn on God's Providence

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 every hour.
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His works in vain.
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

William Cowper, 1774.

AN AFFLICTED POET WHO GLORIFIED GOD

Paul once wrote to the Corinthians: "God chose the weak things of the
world, that he might put to shame the things that are strong."

In a very special sense this truth was exemplified in the life of the
poet William Cowper. If God ever made use of a frail instrument through
which to glorify Himself, He did it in this man. Feeble in health from
childhood, with a sensitive, high-strung mind that ever was on the point
of breaking, he still worked and wrought in such a way that his sad and
feverish life certainly was not lived in vain.

Cowper was born at Great Berkhamstead,