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In the Bay Of Biscay, 9th January 1866
PROUDLY she left the port; trim were her shrouds and taut;
The breeze sang o'er her
Above, the winter gales filled her topgallant sails;
And full before her,
Sullen as death and cold, the waste of waters rolled,
With bootless warning,
White-crested, mournful-toned, as the wind sighed or moaned
In the chill morning:
Veiled in her sable smoke strongly her engine-stroke
Throbbed to her motion;
Like a dark citadel she ruled the heaving swell,
Breasted the ocean
Silent and still and vast, out of our sight she passed
On her last mission.
Dear were the souls she bore, and with hearts sick and sore
We lost the vision.
Drearily, mournfully raising their crest on high,
The wild waves drove her;
Fierce howled the southern blast, sweeping in whirlwind past
Her bulwarks over:
Three suns rose, three suns set; onward still, onward yet
No fears may hold her;
Nor moon nor stars appeared; onward her course she steered,
Bolder and bolder
Into the raging sea boiling around plunged she;
Then, like a courser,
She rose and shook her mane free from the surge again,
While hoarse and hoarser
Rolled the deep thunder-peal, till, in wild rock and reel,
Like a man drunken,
She lurched and missed her stay, staggered, and fell away
In the trough sunken.
Then rose a shout,-"The hull with the storm-wave fills
full,
We cannot clear her;
Life is not worth a throw, and the bilge swells below
Nearer and nearer:"
"Man the pumps! Work the crane!-all our toil is in vain;
All we have striven
Counts not a farthing's worth! Vain are the thews of earth
To cope with heaven!"
Out spake the Captain then, "Brothers and Englishmen,
God has decided;
We have done what we could; refuge beyond the flood
He has provided:
"Quail not beneath the stroke; England has hearts of oak
Which must upbear us:
Earth's tempest lulls, and o'er God's everlasting shore
The dawn is near us!"
Low was his voice, and calm: no cry rose, no alarm
When lie had spoken
Loud roared the tempest's din : perfect peace reigned within,
Silent, unbroken:
Hour passed on hour, and no cry of distress or woe
To fear could yield them
Earth with its joys has fled ; they look up : God has spread
His wings to shield them.
There hung those spirits brave over the yawning grave;
Death was before them
Death, with his pain and fear, won no cry, drew no tear,
Nor triumphed o'er them.
Husband and wife and child heard the tornado wild
'Twas but the weather,
Which ever hangs around life's and death's neutral ground
They pass together:
Unflinching, crank in hand, staunch did the pumps-man
stand,
And felt the quarter
Slowly beneath him sink : his to work, not to think
Of wind and water:
There the fresh-wedded bride, in life's bright
morning-tide,
Gave, unrepining,
Back to her God and King her cherished wedding-ring,
So new and shining;
Her husband looked on her, and she seemed lovelier
Than in that far land,
When the late bridal wreath pressed her fair brow beneath
Its myrtle garland.
There the brave Minister points to the haven, where
The Church United
Kindles the beacon light through the death-shades of night,
For souls benighted.
Lord, on the Judgment Day, when fire the dross and clay
From gold shall sever,
Grant us to stand near him in Thy Jerusalem
At one for ever.
All knees are bended there, and the strong voice of
prayer,
Calm and unfearing,
Rose through the tempest-moan up to the golden Throne,
To win a hearing:
There, where no storms may beat, before the Mercy-seat
In the still heaven,
On the sweet incense-cloud it rose to God aloud
For sins forgiven.
Clouds, drop your tears on them! Waves, sing your requiem
O'er the departed!
God trusts their forms to you--the brave, the loved, the
true,
The gallant-hearted:
In your deep silent bed, till the sea yields her dead,
Rocked by the billow,
Soothed in their tranquil sheep by the melodious deep
Be their last pillow:
Sleep they in peace awhile, beneath His loving smile,
Who now has found them,
Whose path is on the seas; who rules the wayward breeze
Which sighs around them.
I see that God-like form sleeping amid the storm,
While the waves foaming
Madly their surges throw upon the weary brow
In the dim gloaming;
Noise and dismay around :-here peace of God profound,
There fear and wailing;
Here, " Peace, rude waves, be still! I keep my Israel
From your assailing."
Peace of God above ! O Life! O deathless love
O blest endeavour!
When our saved souls may pass across the sea of glass
To live for ever!
23rd April
SONG
Saint George is the pride of England's throne,
From east to west he holds his own
And none may dare in their pride to say,
That Saint George's Cross has seen its day
Saint George for merry England
When battle clouds at evening frown,
And the sun of peace in shade goes down,
The meteor flag shall its radiance cast
Lit up by the light of the gorgeous Past
Saint George for merry England.
When armies muster front to front,
That Cross must face the battle-brunt
For the heart of the Briton beats more warm
When he sees that beacon amid the storm:
Saint George for merry England.
Through England's fleet the watchword ran,
"SHE CLAIMS HIS DUTY OF EVERY MAN,"
And forth the standard of battle flew,
And what it signalled each man knew:
Saint George for merry England.
He knew that England's mandate says,-
When life and duty point two ways
The whole world shortly witness can
There's but one choice for the Englishman.
Saint George for merry England.
Beneath that Cross lie stood at bay
On the Belgian plain, through the livelong day,
That Europe's lords might the mettle try
Of Saint George's blood-red infantry.
Saint George for merry England.
The sun sank low on the pride of France
As our Captain said, "Brave Flag, advance!"
And she quailed as she saw the last rays shine
On the triumph step of that thin red line
Saint George for merry England.
Saint George's Cross bars the gates of Day
Where the snow ne'er melts on the Himaleh
That bannered Cross shall wave o'er them
While Japhet dwells in the tents of Shem.
Saint George for merry England.
Blazed high the Cross of the sea-girt isle,
When the death-reek rolled o'er the waves of Nile;
By sea, by land, it peerless is,
For no cheer comes home to the heart like this-
Saint George for merry England.
No plain of Europe lies so far
But has hailed that Cross in the van of war:
But the fairest motto that flag can claim-
I fight for honour and not for fame."
Saint George for merry England.
Old England loves her God too well
For Glory's gold her soul to sell,
And when she arms her for the fight
She arms, FOR GOD AND FOR HER RIGHT.
Saint George for merry England.
Unfurl, brave flag! as thou hast unfurled
Through a thousand years of the changing world,
And be thy Cross as pure from stain
When the thousand years come round again.
Saint George for merry England.
Page created 25 October 2002 and last updated 13 December 2002
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