The Cleft Rock

When a school boy, thirteen years of age, I went, one splendid summer morning, to bathe. The sea was within five minutes’ walk from my house, and I selected a place called The Round of Beef, which is a pretty cove surrounded by rocks. A large round rock stands out at the seaward end, as if to keep watch and defend the bay from the rolling waves. From this huge sentinel rock the bay derives its name.
As I stood upon this rock, before diving into the water, I thought, “This is just the place for me. I can swim, in about a dozen strokes, to the top of the cove, and then I shall be in shallow water.” The sun was shining; the water clear as crystal. I could count the pebbles at the smooth bottom, which did not look more than three feet deep. So in I plunged, and swam up the creek, but felt very, very tired before I reached the end of the cove.
I cheered when reaching my goal, but my exultation was very brief, for on trying to get a footing I found that the clear, bright water had deceived me—I was still much out of my depth. I was in the very shallowest part of the cove, and behind me was still deeper water. My head reeled, my heart failed me, and I shouted “Help, help!” But there was no one near.
At length, quite exhausted, I sank. The water closed over my head. Lost, lost, I thought, “in a watery grave.” When sinking, I began to think of my dear old aunt, who had often told me of the Lord Jesus, who came into the world and died upon the cross to save sinners.
I had, though but a boy, often felt the power of the truth, but now I felt its value. Oh! That I had yielded to those fervent prayers and urgent entreaties; for my body sinking beneath the water, and I felt that my soul would soon be in hell. In an agony of soul, when under the water, I cried, “Great God, save me. Save me, O God, or I shall sink into hell!”
In the struggle, I had risen again to the surface. The tide had swept me close against the rocks. I saw that the one in front of me had a hole cleft in it. I could just reach it. Thrusting my hand as far as I could into the riven rock, I found I could keep my head above water. The strength of the rock upheld me. Then, looking above me, I saw that the huge rock was covered all over with similar indentations, and when regaining sufficient strength, I climbed to its summit, I was out of danger.
Then these words came into my mind—
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,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.

I lay panting upon the top of the rock. What had saved me from death? The cleft in the rock. The rock without the cleft in its side would not have availed; as it was, it exactly met my need.
It is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment. (Heb. 9:27.) Death and judgment are the dark waters that are fast closing over the heads of all who are not believers in Christ. How awful; death first, then the judgment, then the place of torment, where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.
Oh, look to the cleft rock, to Christ, who was once offered to bear the sins of many. (Heb. 9:28). If your sins are upon you they will drag you down, and you will inevitably perish; but if you trust your soul to Jesus, who “Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree” (1 Peter 2:24), you will find healing in His stripes, pardon, peace, and salvation—through faith—in His blood. (1 John 1:7.)
William Farel.
(Continued front page 112.)
AMONGST those who were at this time turned to the Lord, was a priest at Grenoble, called Peter Sebville. He was converted to God through the teaching of Anemond. We are told he was “a preacher of great eloquence, of an honest and good heart, not taking counsel with flesh and blood.” His preaching delighted Farel. He felt that with Peter Sebville to preach to them, the Alpine villages of France would need him no longer. Anemond had written to him entreating him to come to Switzerland. This was no easy matter, for every road was beset with enemies. Bedier and Duprat had sent warnings to the Bishop of Gap, against “the fire-brand of discord,” who had escaped from their hands at Paris. But, under the sheltering care of God, Farel traveled on, hiding in woods and mountain clefts, till, early in 1524, he reached the old city of Basle. Several remarkable men were at that time living at Basle. This city, the chief university of Switzerland, was famous for its learning, and for the number of books which were then printed there. The man who, in all Europe, was looked up to as at the head of learned men of every country, the great Erasmus, had been living at Basle since the year 1514. A number of men, also famous for their learning, had flocked to Basle for the sake of Erasmus’ company. No one seemed to know, for a long while, whether Erasmus took part with the gospel or against it. Zwingli had known him for some time, and admired him greatly. Erasmus praised and admired Zwingli in return. There was a preacher of the gospel at Basle who was also devoted to Erasmus. This man’s name was Hausschein. He was a German from Franconia. He had been a monk, but had left his convent two years before. He had not, however, come out clearly from the Church of Rome. He was much in the same path as Master Faber, at Meaux, but it was from want of light, not from want of courage. He was of a meek and gentle disposition, and at the same tune he was an earnest preacher of the gospel, as far as he knew it. He was curate of St. Martin’s Church at Basle, and his preaching was attended by immense crowds. Erasmus only half liked him, for in his heart he hated the truth, though convinced of it as far as reason could convince him. Those whose reason is convinced, but whose hearts are not converted, are the people who feel most enmity against God.
It was just at this time that Erasmus was beginning to show more openly on which side he stood. He had been provoked by a letter from Luther, who told him he had not courage to be on the Lord’s side. He had also been earnestly entreated, just at this time, by the pope and by Henry VIII., king of England, to write in defense of popery against the Lutherans. It was then that Farel arrived at Basle. Hausschein gladly took him into his house, and gave him his little spare room. The Lord rewarded Hausschein for his love and hospitality. He was, just then, very much cast down, because so few seemed to care for the truth that he preached. He had written to Zwingli, “Alas, I speak in vain, and see not the least reason to hope. Perhaps amongst the Turks I should find more ears to hear—but, alas! I lay the blame on myself alone.”
To this humble servant of God Farel was sent, with words of help and encouragement. Hausschein was revived and cheered by the bright faith of his French brother, and from the first day of his arrival lie loved him deeply and fervently. “Oh, my dear Farel,” he said, “I hope that the Lord will make our friendship an everlasting one, and if we cannot live together down here, our joy will only be the greater when we shall be together at Christ’s right hand in heaven!” Farel, too, was delighted to find how much love for the Lord filled the heart of Hausschein, and he was glad to know the friends of the good man who had been brought to know Christ, and were longing to know Him better. But he refused to go and see Erasmus. “No,” he said, “he shuts his door against God’s saints. He is afraid of owning himself on the Lord’s side. I do not wish to make his acquaintance.” It was in vain that Erasmus was praised by Hausschein, and by others, as learned in theology and wonderful in intellect. “The natural man,” said Farel, “does not understand the things of God. The printer’s wife knows more about them than he does. The truth is, he desires to stifle the gospel.”
Farel was thought exclusive and narrow-minded by many; by Erasmus he was hated. Just as all the favor of the king could give no pleasure to Haman, as long as Mordecai the Jew refused to bow to him, so did all the homage of Europe fail to give enjoyment to Erasmus, whilst this young Frenchman, who was nobody at all, refused to own his superiority. Erasmus gladly seized upon this opportunity of proving himself a true churchman, by speaking his mind about Farel. He was very much afraid of being suspected to belong to the party of Reformers. He shrank from attacking Luther, but it was easy to vent his anger upon this wandering Frenchman.
“I have never met with anything more false, more violent, more mischievous than this man,” he said; “his heart is full of vanity, his tongue of malice.” And, alas! do we not see our own natural hearts in the words that follow— “These Frenchmen have five words continually put into their mouths by Satan: GOSPEL, WORD OF GOD, FAITH, CHRIST, HOLY GHOST!” Such were to Erasmus, and such are to all of us who have not yet been born again, the five words we least love to hear! Well might the Lord speak those solemn words of condemnation and of grace, “Ye must be born again.” What is the natural man, even with the mind and the knowledge of Erasmus! And well would it be if the same complaint could be made of us as of William Farel. Another accusation brought against him by Erasmus was that he had given to this great scholar, who had all Europe at his feet, the name of Balaam. It would seem that Farel had not called him Balaam. But it is very possible that he may have heard of his correspondence with Henry VIII., and may have thought and spoken of Balaam, who would, if he could, have cursed the people of God for the king’s reward. Farel, however, in his letter speaks of Erasmus without bitterness or abuse. Anemond arrived at Basle soon after Farel came there. There were many Frenchmen who had now taken refuge there, for the storm was breaking over the servants of Christ in France. Sad news came from Meaux. When William Farel had left the little flock, who chiefly through his preaching had been brought to God, they turned for help and teaching to the wool-carder, John Leclerc. John went from house to house speaking of Christ. But not content with this, he one day posted up on the cathedral door a placard, in which he boldly spoke of the pope as the Antichrist, whom the Lord will destroy with the breath of His mouth. We, who have had better opportunities of learning the scriptures, are aware that the pope is not this Antichrist, that on the contrary, Antichrist will at last supplant popery.
Thus God uses the wicked to punish the wicked, as in the case of Jehu and the house of Ahab. Still, it is no doubt right to reckon the pope amongst “the many Antichrists” of whom the apostle John speaks. The Franciscan monks rose in a body when this insult was offered to the pope.
John Leclerc was at once imprisoned. He was tried, under the eyes of the wretched bishop, and condemned to be whipped for three days through the city, and on the third day to be branded on the forehead as a heretic. This sentence was carried out. An immense crowd assembled to see the punishment of Leclerc. On the third day the hangman, with a red hot iron, marked him on the forehead. A voice arose amidst the crowd, “Glory be to Jesus Christ and to His witnesses!” It was the voice of John’s mother. The monks and the officers were awestruck. None dared to touch her, and she walked home through the crowd, who fell back on each side as she passed. John was now set at liberty, and went to live at Metz. His brother Peter continued to labour in making the gospel known at Meaux. John was equally busy at Metz. He continued to work at his trade, and in his spare hours to preach and teach Jesus Christ. Another of the little flock at Meaux had also been seized, and was now in prison. It was young James Pavanne.
F. B.