Driven at the mercy of the waves, borne onward in its fury, the gallant ship with its human freight was dashed upon the rugged rock.
Struggling for dear life, three sailors and a boy succeeded in swimming to and climbing up on a ledge. Although its iron teeth had shattered the craft that in time past so safely bore them, yet there was an element of mercy, for, secure upon its firm base, it offered a refuge for the drowning, a covert from the storm.
But still the tide kept rising, the water was now up to their knees, and with fearful forebodings of a temporary respite, followed by a watery grave, they clung to the rock in mute despair.
“The Samphire! the Samphire!! we’re saved, we’re saved!” was the cry suddenly raised by one of the despairing ones, as he discovered that little plant which only grows above the tidemark. The water would abate before reaching the Samphire, and all they had to do was to stand firm on the rock.
Shipwrecked mariners over life’s tempestous sea, we point you to the Rock of Ages; upon its heights the everlasting Samphire blooms. Not all the storms and billows of the past ever reached that point of security, nor shall they submerge the countless throng of those who, gathered there, lift up their voice above the noise of the angry sea.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.”
Today we raise the cry—”We’ve found a place of refuge. Come, trust yourself upon this rock.” Thousands in time past have stood safely here, till the Lifeboat has borne them away to the haven of rest; and today a countless multitude of living witnesses, as with one voice, say, Come—venture—trust.
ML 03/19/1961