It is a strange and bold metaphor which connects what is so spiritual with what is so material and so substantial—‘An anchor of the soul.’ It would be difficult to conceive that any image could be so appropriate and so comforting.
Look at some of the consequences of this wonderful connection of the ‘soul’ with that ‘anchor within the veil.’
I. How perfectly safe that soul must be.—God’s eternal counsel, God’s very being, and God’s oath passing into Christ. A Christ unseen; wearing a body Himself, in heaven; Who secures and seals your pardon. Your strength, your peace, your life, your glory. He has said, ‘Where I am, there shall My servant be.’ Your Substitute in punishment, your Representative in love and happiness, your ‘hope’; all that is beautiful, joyous, holy, and happy in the future concentrated in Him for you. Your hope ‘within the veil.’
II. How restful should your soul so ‘anchored’ be!—What mean all these doubts and fears? What though you be tossed about, you are held as by chains of adamant, and your soul shall never perish. You cannot be lost! There cannot be any shipwreck to a soul that is ‘anchored’ within the veil.
III. And by that token that you are ‘anchored,’ you cannot be very far from shore.—You may not see the land of promise; you may not yet hear the songs of its inhabitants; but there is no anchorage out in the mid-sea, you must be near the coast, nearer perhaps than you guess now, in this dark night; but you will be surprised to find how close you are all the while when the morning breaks. Therefore you must make haste to be ready to go ashore, for the voyage may be nearly done, and you only wait the order to step out, and be at home.
IV. Meanwhile, remember this, a ship always drops towards her anchor.—And, before you land, you must be nearing and nearing Christ and heaven: your thoughts there, your focus there, your tastes and your desires there; and your ‘hope’ must become more real and more perfect every day. There must be more realisation of the land you are about to touch; more affections there; more appreciation of its loveliness; more familiarity with its language and love and praise. You must be practising what you will have to do when you arrive.
Rev. James Vaughan.
‘ “I have no hope in what I have been or done,” said Dr. Doddridge, on his dying bed, “yet I am full of confidence; and this is my confidence: There is a hope set before me. I have fled, I still fly, for refuge to that hope. In Him I trust, in Him I have strong consolation, and shall assuredly be accepted in this beloved of my soul.” ’