Biographical Sketch

John Newton was born on July 25, 1725, almost 300 years ago. John’s mother, Elizabeth, was a pious and Godly Christian who taught her son the Scriptures at a very early age. The Word of God was deeply rooted in his heart. Elizabeth Newton slowly died of tuberculosis; John lost his mother at the early age of seven. But God’s Word never returns void.

The movement of the heavenly bodies has long been a fascinating object of mankind’s attention. Ancient astronomers, such as the magi of the East, charted the courses of the sun, moon, stars, and even the comets. Some civilizations, such as the Mayans of South America or the Egyptians of North Africa, were able to accurately predict eclipses and the summer and winter solstice.

For decades, the people of Geneva had been at the center of a political battle. The profligate, immoral Bishop of Geneva had wearied the people with his vices and crimes. But William Farel, the man with the reddish-brown beard and astride his magnificent horse, had come to conquer this city. He came conquering not for France, not for Italy, and not for Switzerland. Farel had come to conquer the city for his Lord and Master, Jesus Christ!

The long Arctic night was approaching fast. Above the airplane was a low, threatening deck of clouds. Below him was a seemingly limitless expanse of snow and ice covering the tundra. Somewhere out there in that whiteness was a lone boy and his dog team. The local men from the village had gone out by land in their dogsleds looking for the boy. They had searched for two days, to no avail.

Because that young baby lived, curiosities of nature that had long been a mystery to mankind would no longer be a mystery. That baby, Isaac Newton, lived and his work explained the paths of comets, the fall of objects toward the earth, the rise and fall of tides, the orbit of the earth and planets around the sun, and the reason for the colors of the rainbow. Newton showed that mysteries could be cleared up when the light of God’s truth was shed upon the darkness of ignorance and superstition.

In 1893, when Chisholm was twenty-seven years old, a spiritual revival swept through his hometown and county in Kentucky. A visiting preacher named Henry Clay Morrison, the man who later became famous as the president of Asbury College, preached a series of revival meetings. Chisholm responded, repenting of his sins and trusting in Jesus Christ as his Savior and Lord.

It was not until the middle of the 19th century that someone finally invented a practical way to remove and inspect moveable frames from a man-made beehive so that the honey could be extracted from the hive without disturbing the bees and without destroying the comb. This man has been called “The Father of American Beekeeping.” His name was Lorenzo Lorraine (L.L.) Langstroth, one of the most brilliant and innovative beekeepers that has ever lived. His first calling was as a pastor; meanwhile, his God-given apiary interests as well as his keen observations of one particular pattern of behavior within the bee colony revolutionized the commercial beekeeping industry forever.

February 1812 was a month filled with dramatic changes for a young missionary named Adoniram Judson. On the fifth day of the month, he was married to Ann Hasseltine. A day later, the groom was ordained as a minister of the Gospel in the Congregational Church in Salem, Massachusetts. Then, just two weeks later, on February 19, Adoniram and his bride Ann boarded a ship. They were bound for a land unknown to them that lay on the other side of the world.

Leaving their wives and children in the care of friends in Switzerland, the 800 mighty men had set out to reconquer their valleys. The march had taken them over narrow mountain trails, across dangerous precipices, and through narrow passages called defiles. Avoiding the main roads, the determined group sought to catch their enemies by surprise. Up to this point, they had not encountered any major force.

The heroic priest, clad in the garments of his Aaronic priesthood, stood as still as a statue, his long beard flowing in the wind as he looked defiantly at the Greek officer who had called upon him to deny his God. Mattathias’s five sons, all young men in the prime of youthful strength, stood quietly by their father’s side. One of the Jewish men in the village, a Hellenist (Greek sympathizer) who had long urged Mattathias to compromise just a bit, stepped forward to perform the sacrifice instead.

Leonhard quickly became a mathematical prodigy. At age sixteen, Leonhard was awarded a Master of Philosophy degree for his dissertation in which he compared the philosophies of Newton and Descartes. His father wanted him to enter the pulpit, but Leonhard believed that he could serve the Lord and advance the cause of truth in the science of mathematics, using the unusual ability God had given him.

On New Year’s Day, 1484, a boy was born to a family of shepherds in the Wildhaus Valley in the Swiss Alps. In a small chalet on a mountain side, this infant boy was born into a world in transition. The superstitions of popery, which had held the world entranced for so long, were beginning to lose their charms. The people of Europe, sickened by the debauchery of monastic life, tired of the pomp of the papacy, and weary of unintelligible Latin chants, began to hunger and thirst after the Word of God.

At the Battle of Ramillies in 1706, which was part of the War of Spanish Succession, nineteen-year-old James Gardiner was serving in Belgium under the command of the Duke of Marlborough. Young Officer Gardiner was assigned to the forlorn hope (a unit who were given desperately hopeless assignments). He was immediately given charge of an almost impossible assault. He planted the colors of the regiment in advance of his men, and called upon them to follow him into the very earthworks of the enemy.

Four hundred years of silence from God were suddenly interrupted by a messenger sent from Heaven. The setting was the exact time as foretold by Daniel. The place was the sanctuary of the Temple, as foretold by Malachi. The recipient of the message was a priest named Zacharias, whose Hebrew name very fittingly means “the Lord Remembers.”

William Billings married a lady named Lucy, and the Lord blessed the couple with six living children over the course of their marriage. Throughout these years of writing, composing, publishing, and leading singing schools, Billings supported his family as a tanner. In those days, it was very difficult for a musician to support himself solely by his creative compositions.

Finally! The mail had arrived. The elderly lady opened her front door to find the package the postman had placed there. The package was from her son; she had been praying and waiting for this box for many long years. With trembling excitement, she opened the box to find a bound book with the simple title, The Virgin Birth of Christ.

Four years after writing this hymn, Heber decided that he would not only sing about going to India—he would go! He was consecrated as Bishop of Calcutta in 1823. He traveled widely throughout India. He worked tirelessly to spread the Gospel among the people of India, whom he came to love.

On his way to Athens, the ship on which Gregory traveled was beset by a tremendous storm that was similar to the one that was weathered by Paul in the Book of Acts. In the midst of this storm, Gregory of Nazianzus vowed that if God would spare his life, he would give himself to the proclamation of the Gospel and to the service of the Lord Jesus. As yet, the young scholar had not professed Christ or been baptized as a Christian.

Zizka gained military experience at the Battle of Grunwald in 1410 and gradually became a recognized leader of the Hussites. When Jan Hus was burned to death at the stake for refusing to recant, Zizka realized that the authorities in church and state hated the simplicity of the truth advocated and preached by Hus. Jan Hus was a meek and submissive servant of Christ. But God calls different men for different tasks. While some are called upon to submit and die, others are called upon to stand and fight. Zizka knew that if someone did not rise as the champion of the Hussites, they would all meet a similar fate as that of Hus.

The mother lovingly stroked the blond hair of her son. Slowly and carefully, she spoke to her son in a serious tone, “You must learn to be strong. From now on you are no longer my child—you are a man.” With this solemn parting, Ruth Weichert pulled her son, Henryk, to her heart. A quiver ran through her as she embraced her ten-year-old boy for what she knew might be the last time.