Rowland Taylor
3. Built on the Immovable Rock

Taylor was a godly minister in Hadleigh in England in Reformation times. After Queen Mary had come to the throne - following godly King Edward VI - Roman Catholicism was restored. When Taylor objected to a priest saying mass in his church, he was summoned to London and condemned to death. He ate one last meal with his wife and children, when he gave them good advice.

The next day the Sheriff of London came to the prison at 2 am and brought Taylor out. His wife had suspected that this would happen and she was waiting outside with two of their children, 13-year-old Elizabeth - whom they had adopted when, at the age of only three, she was left an orphan - and Mary, their own daughter. When Elizabeth saw the Sheriff and his band, she shouted: "Mother, mother, here is my father led away!" His wife shouted in the darkness: "Rowland, Rowland where art thou?" He answered her: "Dear wife, I am here".

When he stopped, the Sheriff's men would have hustled him on, but the Sheriff himself told them to wait for a little to let him speak to his wife. They knelt down and said the Lord's Prayer. Afterwards Taylor stood up and kissed his wife, shook her hand and said, "Farewell, my dear wife, be of good comfort, for I am quiet in my conscience. God shall stir up a father for my children." He next kissed Mary and said to her: "God bless thee and make thee His servant". He then turned to kiss Elizabeth and wished her God's blessing also. He encouraged them together: "I pray you all to stand strong and steadfast to Christ and His Word, and beware of idolatry". Then his wife expressed the wish: "God be with thee, dear Rowland," and told him that she expected to see him in Hadleigh, which was where he was to face death.

He was led out to the Woolpack Inn and put in a room, where four yeomen of the guard and the Sheriff's men watched over him. At once Taylor went down on his knees; indeed he spent his whole time there in prayer. When his wife tried to follow him, the Sheriff refused to let her speak any more to her husband. But he told her that she could go to his own house, where she could have everything she needed, and directed two of his men to bring her there safely. However, she wanted to go to her mother's, and the officers were commanded to go with her there instead; it was still very early on that winter's morning.

At 11 am they set off from the inn on horseback to hand Taylor over to the Sheriff of Essex, who was now ready to take charge of him. He in turn would pass the prisoner over to the Sheriff of Suffolk, the county in which Hadleigh was. As he rode along with the Sheriff of Essex and his men, Taylor called on them to repent, to change their wicked way of living. And he pointed out to them how he had no fear, but was joyful at heart and glad to die.

As they ate their evening meal at Chelmsford, the Sheriff tried very earnestly to bring his prisoner back to the Roman religion. "We are right sorry for you," he told Taylor, "God has given you great learning and wisdom". Taylor, he pointed out, had been in great favour with the Council before Edward VI died, and even with the King. He was loved by everyone for both his virtues and his learning, the Sheriff went on, with more than a hint of flattery. "And", he told Taylor, "it would be a great pity you should cast yourself away willingly, and so come to such a painful and shameful death. You would do much better to change your opinions and return to the catholic universal Church of Rome, acknowledge the Pope's holiness to be the supreme head of the Church and reconcile yourself to him." But Taylor was firm; he knew what was right and he was mindful of his duty before God. He would not give up the teachings of the Bible and return to the Church of Rome, which never was properly universal (which is what the word catholic really means).

After the Sheriff of Suffolk had taken charge of the prisoner, they reached Lavenham. During the two days they spent there, several important men came to him in a further attempt to persuade him to turn back to Rome. If he would do so, they promised him that he would be pardoned and even made a bishop. But no, Taylor was not interested in such promotion and he remained firm in his beliefs. As Foxe the historian put it, thinking of Christ's words in the Sermon on the Mount: Taylor "had not built his house upon the sand in peril of falling at every puff of wind, but upon Christ, the sure and immovable rock".

At last they reached Hadleigh. As they rode over the bridge, they saw a poor man waiting with five small children. "O dear father and good shepherd, Dr Taylor," the man shouted, "God help thee as thou hast many a time helped me and my poor children." Both sides of the streets in Hadleigh were lined with people from the town and from the surrounding countryside. They complained to each other: "There goes our good shepherd from us that so faithfully has taught us, so fatherly has cared for us". "What shall we poor scattered lambs do?" they asked. "What shall become of this most wicked world?" And they cried: "Good Lord, strengthen him and comfort him". When he reached the almshouses, where the poorest people lived, he threw to them most of his remaining money. At the last of these almshouses, he asked, "Is the blind man and blind woman that lived here alive?" "Yes," he was told, "they are there inside." He then put the very last of his money inside a glove and flung it through an open window into the blind couple's dwelling.

When they reached the place where the prisoner was to be put to death, a large crowd was waiting. He wanted to speak to them, but the Sheriff would not allow him. He reminded Taylor about a promise he had made to the Council. "Well," Taylor answered, "a promise must be kept." There is no record of this promise but it was common for the Council to threaten to cut out the tongues of prisoners unless they would promise to keep silent when they were being put to death. The authorities were no doubt afraid that the words of the martyrs, witnessing against the errors of Romanism, would be particularly effective in these circumstances. They were also afraid there would be some disturbance among the spectators, but in fact that never happened anywhere.

Taylor gave away his boots and as much of his clothes as he could decently take off. Then he told the people: "I have taught you nothing but God's holy Word and those lessons that I have taken out of God's blessed book, the Holy Bible. And I am come here this day to seal it with my blood." A yeomen of the guard ordered him to be quiet. So he knelt down and prayed. Soon, standing now inside a barrel, he was tied to the stake. With his hands folded together and his eyes looking up to heaven, he went on praying. The men brought bundles of sticks and lit the fire. A man threw one of these faggots at him; it hit his head and the blood ran down his face. The martyr told him meekly: "O friend, I have harm enough. What need was there for that?"

As Taylor - whom J C Ryle calls "one of the best and bravest of the English martyrs" - was repeating Psalm 51, someone struck him on his lips, telling him to speak in Latin - which, of course, the ordinary people would not be able to understand. Finally Taylor called on God: "Merciful Father of heaven, for Jesus Christ my Saviour's sake, receive my soul into Thy hands". And we need have no doubt that a merciful God heard the prayer of this godly man and brought his soul safely to heaven.