Fiercely the dark waves roared and tossed
Beneath the midnight sky;
The howling gale bare to the coast
A wild imploring cry.
Swiftly a little boat was manned,
God ruled the billows’ wrath;
Three men were rescued, and to land
She bore them without scath.
Slowly the captain’s senses woke,
For life had well-nigh sped,
And feebly then his pale lips spoke,
“Who’s saved? Who’s saved? Where’s
Ned?”
“Not here—not here!” “O! haste again
To you fast-sinking wreck!
And if for him your search be vain,
Then bring his Bible back.”
Again those dauntless hearts the night
Of winds and waves defied;
And One unseen by mortal sight
Was there the helm to guide.
The boy they found not—and the Book
Alone they bore away;
And straight it to the captain took,
Drenched with the briny spray.
Tears coursed his weather-beaten cheek,
Emotion shook his voice;
“He taught us all our God to seek,”
He said, “and would rejoice
If we would listen while he read
God’s holy words of love;
And his pure life an influence shed
His pleading words above.”
“And when this tempest lashed the deep.
And death’s dread form drew near,
His prayer, which made us sailors weep,
Still echoes in mine ear:—
‘If one of us, O Lord, must find
A watery grave this night,
Take him, dear Lord, whom Thou dost find
The ready and the right.”
“And God has heard the sailor-boy,
Above the rushing storm;
His spirit tastes now God’s own joy,
Though ocean holds his form.
We still are spared—Oh, e’er can be
Forgot this solemn night?
God grant each at His call may be
The ready and the right.”
ML 06/08/1902