IT was at the close of a bright Sunday in August that a few of us were seeking to make the good news of God’s salvation for man known on the pebbly beach of Deal in Kent. As we preached the night darkened, and our acetylene lamp was hardly sufficient to enable us to see our hymn papers. With the darkness the wind began to rise, and very soon so increased that we were driven to the shelter of our homes. Looking seaward the lights of many yachts could be seen as the boats strained at their moorings, and as we gained our haven for the night we thought of those big and small boats tugging and tugging away at their rock-embedded anchors, and wondered how they would fare during the fast approaching storm.
The lightning flashed, the dull, heavy rolling thunder followed, and the rain pelted down, being driven by a stormy wind which seemed to threaten with destruction all found in its path. That night we slept little and were glad of the morning light.
At an early hour we hastened to the beach; the waves were breaking one over the other in majestic style. How small and weak we felt in the presence of such greatness and power. Scanning the beach line our eyes rested on a group of boatmen partially in the surf, all pulling at ropes which were connected to the hall of a large yacht. The masts were broken off short, and were being dashed about by the waves at either side.
We soon joined the group of men, and then saw that the wreck was one of those fine yachts which only a few hours before we had seen so proudly riding at anchor. Sea after sea dashed against and over the doomed bark; spars, rigging, deck fittings, one after the other were being washed ashore, and in one short hour the mighty waters did their fell work, and the boat once so trim and tata was smashed into a thousand pieces. We stood and watched the whole work of destruction, being utterly unable to prevent it.
A wrecked ship led to a train of thoughts on wrecked lives, wrecked hopes, wrecked futures, and the great wreck which had fallen on the whole race of man, the result of Satan’s power and sin’s insidious workings.
Passing amongst the boatmen we found one man greatly agitated and discussing with those around him the many bearings and causes of the wreck. During a lull in the conversation we said, “Well, captain, can you tell us how this”―pointing to the wreckage― “happened?”
“That is very simple, sir,” he replied; “she dragged her anchor, and I was not aboard. If I had been aboard she would have been quite safe now.”
Just two things were needed for safety: ―
(1) The anchor in a sure place.
(2) The captain aboard.
But both these things were missing!
Reader, have you, may we ask, these two indispensable things connected with your frail ship? You, yea, we all, are out on life’s changing sea, and the storm will most surely arise; the day and the time are appointed. Will your anchor hold in that day? If firmly grounded on the Rock of Ages, your little bark will withstand every storm.
Have you the Captain aboard?
The Rock is Christ. The Captain is Christ. With Christ as the object of your soul’s faith, with Christ enthroned in your heart, the winds of satanic rage may beat upon you, the storm of the Day of Judgment may fall, but you shall safely gain the harbor of eternal rest, and home.
Have you let the Saviour in? If not, do so now. Have you let your anchor down deep on to this eternal and unmovable Rock? If not, do so now.
Why now? you ask. Does not the sun shine? is it not all fair and beautiful and calm? Yes, and so it was in Noah’s days; but in a moment “the fountains of the great deep were brokers up and the windows of heaven were opened,” and all were lost, except eight persons whose refuge was in the Ark, and whose Captain was Christ.
So it was too in the days of Lot―not a movement in earth or sky; and yet in a moment the sky was overcast with fine and brimstone, and the cities of the plain and their teeming inhabitants were lost, except those persons whose Rock and Captain was Christ.
You say that is an old, old story. Thank God! it is, but it will be told out for the last time soon. Christ is coming. His people are going to meet Him in the clouds, and you, what about you? Will you be with him eternally secure, or will you, who have heard the gospel and refused it so often, be left behind to meet the soon-coming storm, to be dashed into eternal ruin?
Stop! Consider! Drop your anchor on to the Rock. Take the waiting Captain aboard, and present peace and eternal glory shall be your portion.
“Will your anchor hold in the straits of fear?
When the breakers roan and the reef is near;
While the surges rave, and the wild winds blow,
Shall the angry waves then your bark o’erflow?”
Seek grace to place yourself in the “we” of the refrain―
“We have an anchor that keeps the soul,
Steadfast and cure while the billows roll,
Fastened to the Rock that cannot move,
Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.”
G. W. H.