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One of the sights in Rome is the " Gallery of Inscriptions" in the Vatican. Inscriptions from old heathen tombs cover the one side, and inscriptions from the early Christian tombs cover the other. There is a heaven-wide difference between the two. On the heathen side there is one long wail of despair — the shriek of friends as the dying were hurried from them into the hateful abyss. But the Christian side breathes only peace and hope. The names of the departed are mixed up with the name of CartEr, and some rudely carved symbol of the faith is usually added. The ship and the anchor are the greatest favourites. At the side of the anchor the Christians often carved the words, "Hope in Christ," or "Hope in God," thus uniting and explaining, as our text does, the word and the image.

I. OUR ANCHOR. "Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul." The hope of the Bible is not like the hope of the world. The old fable says that Pandora shut up all the miseries of men along with hope in a box. The box was offered to Prometheus. or Forethought, who would not have it; and then to Epimetheus, or Afterwit, who took it. Rashly opening it, all the miseries flew abroad, and when he hastily closed the lid, only hope remained in the box. And so, they said, every one has hope. You hope to be rich some day, but your hopes won't make you rich unless you take the right way. What a poor, broken, hopeless thing our hope often is! Hugh Miller tells that when his father was drowned at sea. he was a boy five years old. Long after every one else had ceased to hope, the little fellow used to climb, day after day, a grassy knoll, and look wistfully out over the Moray Firth for the sloop with the two stripes of white and the two square topsails. But months and years passed by, and the white stripes and square topsails be never saw. That poor boy looking seaward is a true parable of mankind. Here is a wicked man, who hopes to be saved a last. You hope so and I hope so; but his hopes, and yours, and mine won't help him, unless he leave off his sins and come to the Saviour. The hope of the soul is often the most uncertain thing in the world, for many are content with a hope they dare not examine. But the Christian's hope is sure, and never disappoints; for it is just saving faith with its eye full upon a glorious future. The anchor here (including cable and all) stands for everything that links a Christian to Christ, everything that gives heaven a hold on him, and him a hold on heaven. Our anchor is "sure and steadfast." God says and swears by Himself, that if you trust in Christ, you shall never perish. But remember you must trust in the living Saviour, not in some dead thing belonging to Him. Our Greek schoolbooks introduce us to the simpleton at sea in a storm. A sailor found him grasping the anchor on deck. The simpleton explained that the anchor was the sign of hope, and that, as he had it in his arms, there was no fear of his drowning. You are no wiser than he if you trust in any sign, or mere hope, or dead word. Hope was not crucified for you, nor were ye baptised in the name of Hope. The hope of our text means the thing hoped for, just as a "will" means not the parchment but the request.

II. THE FAR END OF THE ANCHOR IN HEAVEN. The sailor casts out his anchor, which rushes through the sea to the bottom out of sight, The source of his safety is hidden from his eyes. And so the Christian casts his anchor up through the unseen, even to the very heart of heaven, the holy of holies in the Temple above. The sailor in a storm seeks a safe anchorage. Some of our sheltered bays, with a stiff clayey bottom, are crowded with vessels in squally weather. As doves to their windows, the sailors " flee for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before" them by their charts: they cast anchor and smile at the storm. It is plain that your hope must anchor in something outside of yourself. Two fishermen at sea were once talking about heavenly things. The one was busied with his frames and feelings, always looking into his own heart, and not unto Christ. His comrade r, plied, "Ah, John, you are for anchoring in the hull; you must throw your anchor out." Well spoken; for no refuge or safety can we find in self. And further, earth has no safe anchorage for the soul. Not within, not around, but above lies the firm ground in which you must sink your anchor. "Hast thou hope?" they asked John Knox, as he lay a dying. He spoke nothing, but raised his finger and pointed upwards, and so died. Yes, our anchor finds holding-ground only in heaven. But heaven is a large place, and there are many things in it, you may say. True, but our hope is fixed not on the things, but on the Person in heaven.

III. THIS END OF THE ANCHOR. "Which hope we have," or hold, "as an anchor," or anchor-cable. The hope is set before us that we may lay hold upon it. Think here of a boat at anchor, and a boy in it holding the anchor-rope. If he lets go his hold he drifts out to sea. "Hold on," you cry to him, and "hold on" is the apostle's appeal to the Hebrews. Look now at that corn-ship of which Paul, though a sickly man of books, and no seaman, is really the captain and the saviour — showing us that the Christian should always be of men the most manly, and of heroes the most heroic. There he stands, calm and erect; tossed, but not drowned. Such is the Christian soul, tranquil amid the wild waves. All the storms of life come to him as they come to other men, but his Christian hope steadies his soul.

(James Wells, M. A.)

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KJV: Wherein God, willing more abundantly to shew unto the heirs of promise the immutability of his counsel, confirmed it by an oath:

WEB: In this way God, being determined to show more abundantly to the heirs of the promise the immutability of his counsel, interposed with an oath;