It was one of those perfect summer days which we all love so well. The scent of wild flowers filled the Devon lanes and the drone of the bees as they moved from flower to flower seemed to rest and satisfy the ear. Further away the calm waters of the Channel, unruffled by a breath of wind, reflected the deep blue of the cloudless sky.
Passing through delightful country we came to Start Point — the site of the famous Start Lighthouse. The lighthouse is built near the Point, and below the lighthouse the cliffs fall steeply to the sea.
To the northeast the eye was held by the beautiful sweep of the Devon coastline fading into the summer haze away past the mouth of the river Dart. Near at hand was a group of cottages at the water’s edge, whilst about three miles away the village of Torcross lay flooded in the sunshine of that calm summer afternoon.
Off Torcross we noticed a few small ships. One had a white sail set, but not a breath of wind came to fill it.
The scene was one of almost perfect peace — I say almost, because close off Start Point was an area of raging, roaring water. The strong Channel tide ebbing to the south, and deflected somewhat by the Point as it rushed at accelerated speed over the shallows off the shore, became a cauldron of breakers in which no small open boat could live, and where no man could swim. They rose with foaming crests and fell over in a smother of white water. Some moved in uncertain directions and collided with others in a burst of spray, while all the time the noise of their tumult could be heard on the cliff top — a strange contrast to the peaceful conditions all around.
Looking up the coast at the calm and windless sea, who would have thought of the great ebb-tide moving silently, invisibly, but irresistibly towards the death trap at Start Point? Certainly the thoughts of the young man in the little open, white-sailed boat off Tor-cross were far from danger.
From our stand high up on the cliff, through glasses we could see him as he occasionally roused himself from slumber to turn to a more comfortable position in the boat. And so he drifted, like many another — perhaps like you — all unthinking, downward on the tide of life.
We could see him better now as his little boat floated quietly down the coast. He seemed to be awake but quite heedless as he lay sunning himself, enjoying the present moment, but with no thought of all that lay ahead.
The increasing danger of his position became very evident to us. What could be done for him? Could our voices reach him in warning? Impossible, at such a distance, and there was no time in which to summon aid. How helpless we felt!
But his peril had been seen by some who had both the will and the power to help. From away up the coast a motorboat emerged — driven at full speed with white waves curling from its bow. Three stood in it; with the glasses we could see them standing tense and anxious as they urged their craft after the drifting boat. The three knew well that it was a race with death.
Fifteen minutes passed. The little sailing boat drifted nearer and nearer to the “overfalls.” In the motorboat one of the three could be seen making a trumpet of his hands as he continually shouted a warning. The young man, however, still lay motionless, unheeding, drifting. The solemn warnings of the Spirit of God often go unheeded until it is too late.
Suddenly the young fellow seemed to hear the roar of the breakers ahead. He jumped up and looked for a brief moment at the raging “tide-rip” into which he was being carried at ever increasing speed. He realized his danger.
Now he was all for action. He could save himself — he could row. Quickly he got out the oars and with strong strokes endeavored to draw away from the breakers, but he soon realized that he was in the grip of a power far greater than his own.
Have you found this out?
Doing your own will rather than God’s will is sin. Sin holds you with° a power you cannot break and carries you down to a doom from which your own efforts and all your good resolutions cannot by any means deliver you.
He heard a voice calling. Looking round he saw the motorboat drawing near and realized that it had come to save him.
He threw down his useless oars. Would God that you too might follow his example as you hear the gracious voice of the Saviour calling to you and saying, “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28.
ML 07/19/1953