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| TWO little ones, grown tired of play, | |
| Roamed by the sea, one summer day, | |
| Watching the great waves come and go, | |
| Prattling, as children will, you know, | |
| Of dolls and marbles, kites and strings; | 5 |
| Sometimes hinting at graver things. | |
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| At last they spied within their reach | |
| An old boat cast upon the beach; | |
| Helter-skelter, with merry din, | |
| Over its sides they scrambled in,— | 10 |
| Ben, with his tangled, nut-brown hair, | |
| Bess, with her sweet face flushed and fair. | |
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| Rolling in from the briny deep, | |
| Nearer, nearer, the great waves creep, | |
| Higher, higher, upon the sands, | 15 |
| Reaching out with their giant hands, | |
| Grasping the boat in boisterous glee, | |
| Tossing it up and out to sea. | |
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| The sun went down, ’mid clouds of gold; | |
| Night came, with footsteps damp and cold; | 20 |
| Day dawned; the hours crept slowly by; | |
| And now across the sunny sky | |
| A black cloud stretches far away, | |
| And shuts the golden gates of day. | |
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| A storm comes on, with flash and roar, | 25 |
| While all the sky is shrouded o’er; | |
| The great waves, rolling from the west, | |
| Bring night and darkness on their breast, | |
| Still floats the boat though driving storm, | |
| Protected by God’s powerful arm. | 30 |
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| The home-bound vessel, “Sea-bird,” lies | |
| In ready trim, ’twixt sea and skies: | |
| Her captain paces, restless now, | |
| A troubled look upon his brow, | |
| While all his nerves with terror thrill,— | 35 |
| The shadow of some coming ill. | |
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| The mate comes up to where he stands, | |
| And grasps his arm with eager hands; | |
| “A boat has just swept past,” says he, | |
| “Bearing two children out to sea; | 40 |
| ’T is dangerous now to put about, | |
| Yet they cannot be saved without.” | |
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| “Nought but their safety will suffice! | |
| They must be saved!” the captain cries, | |
| “By every thought that ’s just and right, | 45 |
| By lips I hoped to kiss to-night, | |
| I ’ll peril vessel, life, and men, | |
| And God will not forsake us then.” | |
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| With anxious faces, one and all, | |
| Each man responded to the call; | 50 |
| And when at last, through driving storm, | |
| They lifted up each little form, | |
| The captain started, with a groan: | |
| “My God is good, they are my own!” | |
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