IN EVIL LONG I TOOK DELIGHT-JOHN NEWTON

My favorite hymn writer (among many good ones), may be John Newton. The old converted slave trader was, of course, the writer of Amazing Grace. He wrote many others, which were published in several hymnals, including his own Olney Hymnal which was published while he pastored at Olney, England.This town is where John Newton was buried. Newton was not only a great hymn writer, but an excellent preacher whose works are available today, published by Banner of Truth. You can find the set at Reformation Heritage Books, Monergism or Amazon, and other online stores. If you feel the set is more than you will read, at least read Newton's autobiography Out of the Depths (currently published by Kregel). You likely will not find either of them at your local bookstore, unless it is an exceptional one. Most of the stores today are more interested in selling trinkets , novels and religious tripe, and even heresy! A far cry from the days when I worked at now defunct Christian Discount Book Center which, while not perfect, was pretty selective, and would not carry religious garbage that makes a mockery of the gospel.

Many of our modern gospel songs do not hold to a Christ exalting standard. Some do -- thank God! Newton's hymns certainly had that standard. They were Christ exalting and touched the soul. Oh how I long to see the churches sing again the God honoring hymns of this man, and of Isaac Watts, William Cowper, Charles Wesley, Augustus Toplady, Frances Havergal and Fanny Crosby. Here is one of Newton's that touches me.

IN EVIL LONG I TOOK DELIGHT

In evil long I took delight
Unawed by shame or fear;
'Til a new object met my sight,
And stopped my wild career.

I saw One hanging on a tree,
In agonies and blood;
Who fixed His languid eyes on me
As near His cross I stood.

Sure, never 'til my latest breath,
Can I forget that look
It seemed to charge me with His death
Though not a word He spoke.

My conscience owned and felt the guilt,
And plunged me in despair;
I saw my sins His blood had shed,
And helped to nail Him there.

Alas, I knew not what I did,
But all my tears were vain;
Where could my trembling soul be hid,
For I the Lord had slain!