THE FIRST THREE DAYS AT SEA.

And then, beside his smitten gourd, Spake out with murmuring breath,

To vindicate his bitter right Of anger unto death.

" On the third day He rose ! " Who rose

My spirit s strength and stay ; Unto whose blessed skirts I 11 cling

Till life is rent away. It matters not, though death draw nigh

In curtained chamber fair, Or on the deep, mid wrecking blasts,

If He be with us there. Oh ! may my ransomed soul at last,

Time s storm-tried voyage o er, Sit down, like Mary, at His feet,

And listen evermore.

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