General Superintendent
Max Edwards
September 30, 2025
“Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!” ~ Romans 11:33
William Cowper – pronounced Cooper - (1731-1800) was one of seven children, but only he and his youngest brother, John, lived passed infancy. His precious mother died while giving birth to John. His early childhood was tumultuous, and he eventually landed at a boarding school in London at age 11. He was among students born into privilege and nobility and being from a lower class, was severely bullied in his teenage years. After graduation, he studied law and eventually fell in love with a first cousin on his father’s side of the family and they were not permitted to marry. This, and his other life struggles, along with the pressures of preparing for what we would call the Bar Exam sent him into a deep depression and period of severe mental illness.
But this was not the only time Cowper experienced intense periods of deep anxiety and depression. He once spent 18 months in an asylum, where he had a radical conversion experience. After his release, he met a retired pastor who took him in. The family, and Cowper, moved to the town of Olney some 60 miles north of London. It was there that he made a new life-long friend, the pastor at Olney… John Newton, author of “Amazing Grace.”
Together they wrote poems & hymns, which Newton published in 1779 as “Olney Hymns” – among them, one believed to be Cowper’s last written hymn – a powerful poem that plumbs the depths of God’s sovereign grace which, though often mysterious, always has designs on our good and God’s glory.
Light Shining Out of Darkness
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 sov’reign 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 flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err and scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, and He will make it plain.
