Sketch of Nettleton's Preaching

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In fact, a study of historical documents of 1810 to 1844, the years of his public ministry, revealed that Asahel Nettleton was the leading figure of the revival of religion, known as the Second Great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.