And still the gale went shrieking on, And still the wrecking fury grew; And still the woman, worn and wan, Those gates of Death went through,--
As Christ were walking on the waves, And heavenly radiance shone about,-- All fearless trod that gulf of graves And bore the sailors out.
Down came the night, but far and bright, Despite the wind and flying foam, The bonfire flamed to give them light To trapper Becker"s home.
Oh, safety after wreck is sweet!
And sweet is rest in hut or hall: One story Life and Death repeat,-- G.o.d"s mercy over all.
Next day men heard, put out from sh.o.r.e, Cross"d channel-ice, burst in to find Seven gallant fellows sick and sore, A tender nurse and kind;
Shook hands, wept, laugh"d, were crazy-glad; Cried: "Never yet, on land or sea, Poor dying, drowning sailors had A better friend than she.
"Billows may tumble, winds may roar, Strong hands the wreck"d from Death may s.n.a.t.c.h: But never, never, nevermore This deed shall mortal match!"
Dear Mother Becker dropp"d her head, She blush"d as girls when lovers woo: "I have not done a thing," she said, "More than I ought to do."
THE END.