My Dad passed away in 1999. His long bout with cancer gave him the opportunity to choose what he wanted written on his gravestone. This is what you will read if you come across his place in Rose Hills Memorial Park in Whittier CA:
Nothing in my hand I bring
Simply to thy cross I cling
Toplady
I always thought Toplady was a just a poet, until recently. I read the history behind one of the most famous hymns of all time, “Rock of Ages. I noticed that it was written by a man named Augustus Toplady. The words on the piece of granite over my father’s grave were taken from the second verse of this well-loved hymn. Toplady was a serious young boy, who by age 12 had started preaching sermons on the street. He started writing hymns by age 14, and was ordained in full time ministry at 22. He was a staunch Calvinist, and disliked the Armenian theology preached by the Wesleys in his day of the wrath of God and the fires of hell. The words to the hymn above were from a poem at the end of an article he wrote in 1776 about resting in the sufficiency of God’s forgiveness. His legacy is one of commitment early in life and of writing and speaking out strongly for the truth he believed in.
It is interesting the similarities between my dad and Augustus Toplady, though I am sure the words he chose were based entirely on the merits of the lyrics and not the author’s life. My dad also had a unique name: Leland B. Good. But how fascinating that my father started preaching on the street corners of San Francisco for Youth For Christ when he was only thirteen. He was called into the ministry as a teenager and began his full-time ministry also at age 22. He too was always one to speak up against anyone he felt had gone doctrinally astray. He poured his life into a seven volume commentary on the New Testament as well as numerous doctrinal books, notes, and teachings. He was a modern day Augustus Toplady.
It impacts me when I visit my dad’s grave, staring down at these words timelessly etched in stone, remembering his legacy. He was a man beyond reproach, of the highest standards and impeccable integrity. And he held us, his family, to the same standards, as well as the churches he pastored. Yet his personally chosen epitaph says more about the truth he lived by than the sometimes stark and rigid boundaries he set up within his life. I can see now that along with enforcing uncompromising standards, he embraced unmerited grace. He worked like Wesley, but he rested like Toplady. He understood that in the end, he had no righteousness of his own. I would think that if anyone had a reason to boast in a righteous life, my dad would fall in the top five or ten percent. But as he anticipated his imminent journey to be with his Master, the final self-analysis of his life was of an empty-handed sinner washed by the blood of Jesus, forever indebted to the power of the cross to make him worthy to stand before the Father.
I don’t know what I want on my gravestone. But I hope it will speak as loudly as do the few short words of Augustus Toplady that my dad chose to speak for him to future generations.
