YOU see that lighthouse yonder, flashing in the darkness? One, two, three white flashes. It is a bull point, and shines over the Morte Rock, a Norman name, signifying “Death-rock,” and a death-rock indeed it has proved to many; but there is a bright story attached to it, which I will tell to you as it was told to me.
On October 21St, 1878, a Norwegian brig, the “Odin,” was passing the rock, bound for Llanelly. She was laden with timber, and commanded by a Christian captain, who read his Bible and prayed every day. In the dead of the night the ship ran upon the Slipper rock. There was no lighthouse there then, so the disaster was not to be wondered at. What shall we say of those who run upon the rocks of sin in the clear rays of God’s lighthouse? Such wrecks are willful, not accidental.
The doom of the “Odin” seemed certain, as she lay alone and unseen upon the rocks. Some of the crew were for taking to the boats, but in that fearful sea it was impossible for a boat to live. Signals for human aid were useless, but they could signal to the Lord, who holds the sea in the hollow of His hand, and has said, “Call upon Me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify Me.” (Psa. 50:15.)
It was a time of trouble indeed, no help was near, and so the captain said, “Let us pray unto the good Lord; He can do great things.” All knelt down as best they could, with the exception of an Englishman, who appeared to think prayer was useless. Like many a man in spiritual matters, he thought they had better do something toward their own salvation; but all their efforts to save themselves had proved powerless, and the captain was right in praying in his simple language to One who was able to do what they could not do.
“What next?” “We will wait and see,” was the only order from the captain’s lips. Soon their peril became greater than ever—a heavy sea broke upon the vessel, and split her in two! Was God trying their faith? or was prayer but in vain? The crew kept together as much as was possible, and “What now, captain?” was their question, and still the same answer was given― “We will wait and see.” Would to God we could always have such patient trust in distress; it would be rewarded, as was theirs.
Through the rent, made in their vessel by the last heavy sea that had struck her asunder, the logs of timber stored within her began to wash out. One by one they floated out, and were tossed upon the rocks. Presently a watchful eye began to observe what was taking place. The waves were building the logs into a wooden bridge from the wreck―rock to rock―to the shore! “Captain, I believe we can cross to land!” one exclaimed. Was this to be their way of deliverance? Not of man— not of themselves not by any plan they could have devised— was their salvation to come. Such proved their experience, and such may be yours. Who would have thought of God’s way of salvation from the wreck of sin? Not of man’s work, not of angel’s aid, but all of His own wisdom, and by His own strong arm. A wonderful bridge spans the waters of death, even Jesus, “the new and living Way,” and “no man cometh unto the Father, but by Him.” (John 14:6.) Wrecked one, here is your hope.
At the sailor’s words the captain looked upon what was being wrought by the waves. “Not yet, my men; wait a little longer,” were his orders. Again they prayed. Light was dawning, and they could see that there was just one space between the rocks, which they could not pass, but, guided by the Divine hand, another wave swept out some fresh logs, and laid them exactly where they were needed. The bridge was now complete―a God-built bridge―and over it the drenched sailors scrambled, and by God’s preserving care reached the bay, and climbed a little path to the fields above.
Those who ought to have been on the lookout seemed to have neglected their duty, for there were none to give the shipwrecked men any help, but the Lord led them over the fields into the high road. “It leads somewhere,” said they; “let us follow it.” They did so, and came into the little village of Morthoe, and to the inn, where the proprietor soon understood that refreshment would be acceptable. But the first thing the good captain did was to assemble the men in the parlor to praise God. They had cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He had brought them out of their distresses. They were glad because they were quiet, and they knelt down and gave thanks to God, their Deliverer. “Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!” (Psa. 107:31.)
This story is every word true. I had it from the lady in whose house the captain stayed until the wreck was sold. His Bible was washed ashore a few days after the storm, as if to remind all of them of the faithful word of Him who was the Source of their deliverance.
Three flashes of light again! Since that light has shone no wrecks have taken place upon that rock. W. L.