It is 1776 and such a terrible night; I am caught in a thunderstorm; the wind is howling and the rain began falling in sheets. I am high in the Mendip hills in Somerset, England, with no farmstead or house anywhere near. I found it difficult to walk because of the wind which was blowing so strong directly in my face, forcing the breath back into my lungs. It was dark and turning colder by the minute; in fact at that moment, large hailstones began to fall and they quickly blanketed the path I was trying to follow to my destination.
I began to think my last moments were approaching for with not even starlight to illuminate the path and with the hail making it almost impossible to see an inch in front of my face, I was at my wits end. I realised I should have listened to my friends and stayed overnight with them instead of setting out so late. But it wasn’t stormy when I left and I thought I would soon cover the five miles to my destination. The hail grew deeper and my steps slower. I realised I was climbing, so knew I must have wandered away from the path. How on earth was I to find my way back to it in this weather?
I fell to my knees in desperation, ignoring the blanket of hailstones that quickly soaked my breeches. Clasping my hands together, I cried out in desperation, “Please Father help me; I promise I will do anything to be of service to you in future if only you will help me now.”
At that moment I opened my eyes and a flash of lightening illuminated everything around me. I glanced to my right, as though following instructions, and there beheld a huge rock on the side of the hill with an enormous split down its centre, wide enough for a man to pass through. I struggled to my feet and eased myself through the split in the rock. As I had hoped, the split widened and there was a larger space inside with a flat, sandy floor. Because of the way the rock was split, the inside was completely sheltered from the elements.
I fell to my knees in the sand and thanked God for his providence in guiding me to this safe haven from the storm; a storm in which I most certainly would have perished had I not come upon this refuge. I knew then that I must use this experience to persuade as many people as possible of the love and power of our father God.
I am not completely certain that this is exactly what happened to Augustus Toplady, the Curate of the Parish of Blagdon, in 1776 but it is true that he was overtaken by a fierce storm in the Mendip Hills and found shelter in the space created by a huge cleft in a rock on the side of the hill in Burrington Coombe, which can still be seen to this very day. This is my version of what I think might have happened. What is certain is that following his experience, Toplady wrote one of the most famous hymns in the English language; a hymn sung at the funeral of that great 19th Century British statesman, William Ewert Gladstone. Here are the words:
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure;
Save from wrath and make me pure.
Not the labour of my hands
Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to the cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress;
Helpless look to Thee for grace;
Foul, I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Savior, or I die.
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eye-strings break in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.
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