My Anchor Holds

Tho' the angry surges roll on my tempest-driven soul,
I am peaceful, for I know, wildly though the winds may blow,
I've an anchor safe and sure, That can ever-more endure.

Mighty tides about me sweep, perils lurk within the deep,
Angry clouds o'er-shade the sky, and the tempest rises high;
Still I stand the tempest's shock, for my anchor grips the Rock.

And it holds, my anchor holds;
Blow your wildest then, O gale,
On my bark so small and frail: by His grace I shall not fail
For my anchor holds, my anchor holds.

"My Anchor Holds", W.C. Martin

My first thought was that the anchor pictured isn't doing much good, displayed as it is along the shore with a backdrop of ships at anchor in a calm bay; sails struck and idling the summer away.  But then I noticed the rust and signs of great use.  How great the tales must be that accompany this now rusted and resting stay!  So we press on, knowing the anchor is sure when it grips the Rock.  No matter how mighty the tides or angry the surges, or deep the perils...I am peaceful, for I know...I've an anchor safe and sure.