In the library of Hartford Seminary in Hartford,
Connecticut, hangs an old portrait of a man
forgotten by historians.
His present obscurity stands in stark contrast to
the times in which he lived.
In the 19th century, the name Asahel Nettleton
was a household word.
In fact, a study of historical documents of
1810 to 1844, the years of his public
ministry, revealed that Asahel Nettleton was the leading
figure of the revival of religion, known as
the Second Great Awakening.
He was friends with the leading religious figures
of his day, and he was one of
the original founders of what is now Hartford
Seminary, yet today he is practically unknown.
Looking at his old portrait hanging at Hartford
Seminary, one can see the haggard look in
his blue eyes, a result of typhus fever
and a life spent on the false stretch
for his Lord.
In his day, the name Asahel Nettleton literally
made strongmen tremble at the news of his
arrival in New England towns, for they knew
that soon a revival of religion would occur,
and many would be face to face with
their eternity and the God of that eternity.
It was said of Nettleton that he knew
human nature so thoroughly he could read a
man's heart.
He was the leading human instrument of God
in over 50 revivals during that period known
as the Second Great Awakening, and his biographer
Bennett Tyler stated that he was the means
of bringing 30,000 souls into God's kingdom.
His grave lies in a remote cemetery in
East Windsor, Connecticut.
The inscription on the brown mossy tombstone simply
reads, Rev. Asahel Nettleton, D.D., died May
16, 1844, yet he is among God's choicest
servants.
I'd like to read us today a specimen
of Nettleton's preaching, first published in the New
York Observer from the year 1848, and it
is a good illustration of the power of
Nettleton as a preacher and how God used
him during that time of revival.
This account is composed by the Rev. R.
Smith, who had heard Nettleton preach in New
York.
They said he was not eloquent, and in
the usual acceptance of the word, he was
not.
He generally chose the plainest subjects, preached doctrinally
as well as experimentally, and his object being
only too good, he urged his positions with
great force, not withholding repetitions in many instances
for the sake of greater effect.
But they said he was not eloquent, and
this was the impression under which I sat
down to hear him for the first time.
It was a season of great interest in
the memorable winter of 1820 when a revival
was being experienced and it did appear as
if the mind of a whole population was
moved by an unseen and awful influence from
above.
A company of young ministers had come together,
hoping to learn something from this veteran evangelist
in relation to their professional duties, but he
scarcely told us anything.
He was nervous and exhausted and seemed really
ill.
Well, I remember his appearance.
He sat by the open fire, got off
his shoes and roasted his feet, took some
pearl ash and cider, and finally went to
bed.
After tea, however, he seemed more revived, and
we went to the evening meeting together.
It was known that Mr. Nettleton was expected
to preach, and almost the entire population were
seen assembling, a sleighload after sleighload arrived, some
of them, to my knowledge, from a distance
of not less than eight miles, and not
the most busy fair or parade day ever
exhibited more zeal tempered, however, with solemnity and
the strictest regard to order.
Mr. Nettleton was remarkable for the pains he
always took to keep his audiences still as
possible.
I have seen him spend half an hour
in packing them away in a closely crowded
schoolhouse for this purpose, but to proceed, I
watched for the effect of this appearance of
things upon our friend, and found he was
not insensible to it more than any of
us.
As we walked up the middle aisle to
his little temporary desk under the pulpit, and
saw the waiting masses on either side, I
could observe his nerves to strengthen at every
step.
He took his place, gave out the thirty
-ninth of the village hymns, and made his
prayer.
It was short, hesitating, and very solemn.
It seemed as if he was weighing every
word, and seeking to express exactly what he
felt he needed from the great God, and
nothing else.
Then he took his text, Genesis 19, 17,
and it was, it seemed to me, admirably
appropriate.
Many had been awakened already in our congregation,
and some were rejoicing in hope, but there
was a lingering with others, a sort of
pause in the work, and we feared it
was about to decline.
The preacher probably knew this, and his object
appeared to be to start these lingerers anew,
and by the grace of God to carry
the work further.
It could be surmised how he would treat
the subject in view of such a state
of things.
He first run over the whole history.
I remember his introductory remark, God, said the
speaker very slowly, God does not always speak
by words, and soon coming round to the
same idea again, God, I say, does not
always speak in words.
It was the more impressive language of God's
acts to which he was about to direct
us, and he then went on to describe
the terrible fate of the cities of the
plain.
He gave us their character, the forbearance of
God towards them, the visit of the angels,
and their treatment by the sons of Belial,
the scoffing of the son-in-laws, all
spiritualized and applied as he went along, and
he approached his more immediate object, after infinite
trouble, and strangely overcome reluctance, the Lord being
merciful unto them, the family a lot are
at length without the walls of the city,
and now, said the speaker, turning to sinners,
now, ye who are determined to remain behind,
I have no more to say to you.
And he waved his arms with an abandoning
gesture backwards until it did seem they felt
themselves given up and almost hopeless.
I say, I have no more to do
with you.
My concern is with those who are out
of the city and on the plains.
And then, with a look and voice and
manner indicating the deepest feeling, he repeated his
text, Escape for thy life, look not behind
thee, neither stay thou in all the plain,
escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed.
It may now be imagined, perhaps, the effect
of this announcement and his further prostitution of
it.
His object, evidently, was to show to awakened
sinners the danger of delay or any pause
or looking back even for a moment.
I remember one remarkable expression.
The sinner that looks back in such circumstances,
said he, don't know what he does.
He rocks an infant giant.
And then he described Lot's wife until it
was an absolute reality before our minds.
She began to run as well as the
others, but she began to hesitate.
She began to doubt, perhaps, whether it could
all be true.
She'd like to see how the city looked
now.
She would just look over her shoulder and
run still.
She tried, when suddenly she was struck, stock
and stiff, by a bolt from heaven.
And we seemed to see a cold, straight
pillar of salt standing before us.
These are not imaginings of my own, nor
did it on that occasion seem all extravagant
in the speaker.
The fact was, it was dramatic.
We were all in for it, and the
Master Spirit carried us on at pleasure.
Thus he drove the trembling fugitives across the
plain.
The little hill was reached at length, and
then rejoicing in deliverance, all this happy experience
was made to body forth like rejoicing in
the recently converted sinner.
The preacher had said he would have nothing
more to do with those who remained in
the city, but he did have a word
more to say concerning them, and it was
on this wise Abraham is made to get
up to the place where he had stood
before the Lord, and he sees that burning,
when all the smoke of the city went
up as a furnace.
A hundred times have I heard this scene
described, or attempted to be described, but only
now had I seen it made a reality.
We saw the beautiful sunlight falling for the
last time on those doomed towers, the overdrawing
noon cloud, the arrest, the consternation of the
godless inhabitants, the heavens riding over their heads,
the savage lightnings, the bursting earth, and the
sheets of fire and brimstone descending from God
out of heaven.
All these were made to pass in awful
vividness, and when the speaker said that, all
this was so, and we might see the
evidence of it at any time, it visited
the scorched shores of the Dead Sea, I
found myself actually looking out into the night
as if expecting to see the conflagration.
Many, I doubt not, in that awestruck congregation
turned in the same direction.
At all events, the object of the sermon
was evidently attained.
Some on that memorable night, we have reason
to believe, fled for refuge to the hope
set before them.
The work received a new impulse, and the
next day, we found several new cases of
anxious inquiry.
In consequence of what I saw this evening,
I changed my mind with regard to his
being eloquent, for what is eloquence but that
which has the effect of eloquence.
His object this time was evidently to indoctrinate
certain converts who had recently obtained a hope.
It was at an advanced stage of the
revival.
Indeed, the season was nearly past, and the
place of preaching was a schoolhouse.
Well, do I remember the rushing, solemn zeal
which we gathered?
It was winter.
The winds blew boisterously, and deep, massy snows
obstructed the ways that led to the place
of that humble meeting.
Yet they came—men, women, and children—from far and
near, and the house was filled to overflowing
long before the appointed hour.
Mr. Nettleton spent the best part of half
an hour in packing that rushing crowd.
He would beckon one here, and another there,
put this one on the end of a
box, this other on the stairs, clear a
plank, clap a boy in a corner, and
make one more seat for some old lady
on his own chair, until all were fastened
in some way, and there was no more
moving without or within.
He finally told them.
They were so crowded.
He thought they had better not attempt to
rise in prayer, and then, after the usual
preliminary services, began his discourse.
His text this time was the second chapter
of Ephesians, the first seven verses.
His division of the subject, somewhat formal was,
as nearly as I can recollect, as follows.
Number one, the condition of man by nature.
Number two, the nature of that mercy by
which he is saved.
Number three, the manner of his change and
the privileges of it.
And number four, the ultimate object of this
grace.
On the subject of man's state by nature,
he insisted much and carefully, besides showing that
he walked according to the course of this
world, he insisted that we are, by nature,
children of wrath, and dwelt much on the
entireness of our moral corruption, by repeating the
figure here used, he is dead, dead in
trespassing sins, not sick merely, or likely to
die, but dead, really dead, entirely destitute of
moral life or holiness, and exhibiting only corruption
and deformity in the sight of God.
This was asserted, proved, illustrated, and repeated until
it was understood, reflected on, and felt, and
then the speaker proceeded.
But God, who is rich in mercy for
his great love, wherewith he loved us, even
when we were dead in sins, when did
God begin to love us?
Where and at what time did mercy move?
Was it after we began to be holy
and to love God?
Ah, had he waited until then, this mercy
had never been.
But when did God begin to love us,
even when we were dead in sins?
Yes, dead, dead to law, dead to moral
lovingness, dead to strength, dead to all hope,
and morally loathsome in his sight.
Here, you perceive, was another fundamental doctrine taught,
and the hearers did not know the name
of it, but they saw it must be
so, and drank it in with eagerness, wonder,
and delight.
Next comes the change, or our being quickened
or raised up.
This was together with Christ, it was by
Christ, and after the manner of his resurrection.
Thus, ye were regenerated by the influence of
the Holy Spirit, and for the sake of
your almighty Savior.
And all this, be it remembered, you being
dead in trespasses and sins, by grace are
you saved.
You see, Paul throws it into a parenthesis
here, as if he felt crowded for room
to express so great a truth, but he
must utter it again and again, by grace
are you saved.
And then a double gesture of the speaker
seemed to express the feeling of enclosing, embracing,
and hanging upon this great and glorious truth.
Then he dwelt upon some of the privileges
of this happy state, under the representation of
sitting together in heavenly places.
He did not critically explain the expression, he
just took the common sense view of it,
expressing Christian fellowship, sitting together in heavenly places.
Perhaps Paul was reminding them of some happy
revival season at Ephesus.
Oh, do you not remember such seasons?
And was it not a blessing indeed, thus
to rejoice together in Christ Jesus?
Indeed it was a happy season, a happy
place, t'was heaven below.
And you must, you do desire to live
always in such a frame as this.
Well, hearer, watch, pray, and obey always, and
then you may, for by grace you are
saved.
Thus he accomplished two leading objects, the binding
of hearts, as he would sometimes call it,
and the magnifying in all things, the honor
of sovereign grace.
And therefore, behold, the ultimate object of this
mighty work of God, the ultimate, the great
object is now intended.
He did not wish to have concealed the
interest they had in it.
This was great, very great.
But Christians, this is not the great end
of your being thus saved.
No, but it is to illustrate the honor
and glory of God hereafter that in the
ages to come he might show the exceeding
riches of his grace in his kindness toward
us in Christ Jesus.
Thus he says in another place, for this
cause I obtained mercy that in me, first
Jesus Christ, might show forth all longsuffering for
a pattern to them that should hereafter believe.
And here is the great, the worthy end,
for which all this wondrous grace of God
has been in eternity past, in all its
afterdevelopment now, and as it will be in
the ages to come, the object is to
illustrate, as it could never have been seen
without this, what deity is, in all his
wondrous perfections, worthy of our adoration, wonder, and
love.
Christians, you are to be held up hereafter
for showing this, should you not rejoice in
the thought to stand as mirrors in a
future world, to reflect the exceeding grace of
God.
Thus happily, it seemed to us, were these
young disciples brought forward to take large and
comprehensive views of the ends for which they
were to live, and to feel the whole
nature of their hope and their true condition.
They could not be self-trusting, who thus
understood the plan of salvation.
They could not be narrow in their views
of social privileges and religion.
They could not want for appropriate motives to
zeal and holy love.
Having thus urged these views, the speaker's main
objects for that occasion were evidently accomplished.
A man was present, who had recently obtained
a hope, after a season of great distress.
Having previously communicated with the preacher, he was
now called upon to state his experience, which
he did in a few words, and then
the meeting was brought to a close.
That man still lives, as do many others
who attended this remarkable meeting.
Should this sketch meet their eyes, may it
strengthen their faith.
The Reverend R.
Smith, Recollections of Nettleton in the Great Revival
of 1820.