We were crowded in the cabin,
⁠Not a soul would dare to sleep,—
It was midnight on the waters,
⁠And a storm was on the deep.

'Tis a fearful thing in winter
⁠To be shattered in the blast,
And to hear the rattling trumpet
⁠Thunder, "Cut away the mast!"

So we shuddered there in silence,—
⁠For the stoutest held his breath,
While the hungry sea was roaring,
⁠And the breakers talked with Death.

​As thus we sat in darkness,
⁠Each one busy in his prayers,—
"We are lost!" the captain shouted,
⁠As he staggered down the stairs.

But his little daughter whispered,
⁠As she took his icy hand,
Isn't God upon the ocean,
⁠Just the same as on the land?"

Then we kissed the little maiden,
⁠And we spoke in better cheer,
And we anchored safe in harbor
⁠When the morn was shining clear.