IN a gale off the coast, a vessel was driven ashore. Her anchors were gone, and she refused to obey the helm. A few moments more, and she would strike. If any were saved, they must be tossed by the waves on the beach. In the midst of the general consternation that prevailed, there was one man calm. He had done all that man could do to prepare for the worst when the wreck was inevitable; and now that death was apparently near, he was quietly awaiting the event. A friend of his demanded the occasion of his calmness in the midst of danger so imminent. “Do you not know that the anchor is gone, and we are drifting upon the coast?”
“Certainly I do, but I have an anchor to the soul.”
On this was his trust. It entered into that within the veil. It was the ground of his confidence in the storm, and enabled him to ride securely, in view of an instant and awful death.
This anchor every man should have. Life is a sea: it is often stormy. The soul needs an anchor in the hour of danger. Reader, have you the anchor of hope? Can you say, “Christ is mine, I am His?”