Hope—the Anchor For The Soul
Hope—the Anchor For The Soul
Samuel Miller lived a life of hope.
HE WAS born in 1769 near Dover, Delaware, where his father was a Presbyterian minister. Miller was a descendant of Pilgrims John Alden and Priscilla Mullens, the hero and heroine of Longfellow’s poem “The Courtship of Miles Standish.” He went to Philadelphia in 1788 and entered the University of Pennsylvania a year after the Constitutional Congress began its deliberations there. After graduating he studied theology at Dickinson College and then became a prominent Presbyterian minister in New York City. Miller also achieved fame as an author.
In 1812 Miller and several others cofounded Princeton Theological Seminary. The following year he left his congregation in New York and went to Princeton to become the seminary’s second professor. He taught church history and church government.
Miller spent the next thirty-six years at Princeton, teaching and preaching with equal passion. He reveled in educating future Presbyterian ministers, watching them grow into theologically knowledgeable and godly pastors. During the early 1840s his health began to deteriorate, but he was able to continue his work. In August 1849 it was clear that he was too weak to carry out his teaching duties. Students continued to visit him for prayer and guidance, but he did not return to his seminary classroom.
On Sunday, August 19, 1849, although very weak, Samuel Miller preached at the Dutch Neck Presbyterian Church five miles from Princeton, where for ten years he and Archibald Alexander had served while the church was without a pastor. He spoke on “Hope as the Anchor of the Soul” (Hebrews 6:19), emphasizing the differences between the anchor of a ship and the anchor of the soul. Whereas an anchor on a ship takes hold of things below, the believer’s hope takes hold of things above. He told the congregation, “Whether or not this may be the last time that I shall address you, is a matter of small importance. But you may inquire how does this ‘hope’ appear to an old man standing just upon the verge of the grave?” Then he lifted up his hands and exclaimed in a faltering voice, “Oh! Inexpressibly delightful!” This was Samuel Miller’s last sermon. He was eighty years old.
Although homebound and gravely ill, Samuel Miller continued to accept visitors. He was aware of his imminent death and spoke of it welcomingly and hopefully. When his visitors were leaving, he would say that since it would be their last encounter on earth, “it would be well to close it with prayer.”
Miller’s life was marked by humility and fervent prayer, nowhere better demonstrated than in a last prayer for a former student and beloved friend:
And now, Lord, seeing that thine aged, imperfect servant is about to be gathered to his fathers . . . let the years of thy young servant be as the years of his dying teacher; let his ministry be more devoted, more holy, more useful; and when he comes to die, may he have fewer regrets to feel in reference of his past ministrations. We are to meet no more on earth; but when thy servant shall follow his aged father to the grave, may we meet in Heaven, there to sit, and shine, and sing, with those who have turned many to righteousness, who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Amen.
Samuel Miller’s epitaph reads: “He lived esteemed by thousands, and died amidst light and joy from the Lord Jesus Christ, in whom was all his hope.”
Reflection
Do you have the kind of hope in Jesus Christ that Samuel Miller experienced, even on the verge of death? Is your hope anchored to things on this earth or on things above?
We who have fled to him for refuge can take new courage, for we can hold on to his promise with confidence. This confidence is like a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain of heaven into God’s inner sanctuary. Jesus has already gone in there for us.
Hebrews 6:18-20
