It was a touching answer of a Christian sailor, when asked why he remained so calm in a fearful storm, when the sea seemed ready to devour the ship. He was not sure that he could swim. "But," he said, "though I sink I shall only drop into the hollow of my Father's hand; for He holds all these waters there."
Some hoisted out the boats, and there was oneWho told him to be damn'd,—in his confusion.
Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell— As eager to anticipate their grave.
Again she plunges! hark! a second shockShe loosens, parts, and spreads in ruin o'er the tide.
And fast through the midnight dark and drear, Towards the reef of Norman's Woe.
O, I have suffer'dAgainst my very heart! Poor souls, they perished.
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigged,Instinctively have quit it.
Through the black night and driving rain Miserere Domine!
But hark! what shriek of death comes in the gale,Unclose his cheering eye to light ye on your way!
Every drunken skipper trusts to Providence. But one of the ways of Providence with drunken skippers is to run them on the rocks.
Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coastFalse fires, that others may be lost.