rushing on their prey,
And to and fro the good ship reels with the wind's savage play,
Oh! then it is more fearful far in that frail barque to be,
At the mercy of the wind and wave, alone upon the sea.
Mark Edward's eye grew stern and calm as day by day went on,
And farther from the destined port the gallant barque was borne.
From her tall masts the sails were rent, yet fast and far she flew,
But whither she drove there knew not one among her gallant crew,
Nor the captain, nor the marineres, not one among them knew.
Now there had come and past away full many weary days,
And each looked in each other's face with sad and blank amaze,
For ghastly Famine's bony hand was stretched to clutch his prey,
And still the adverse winds blew on as they would blow alway.
And dark and fearful whispered words from man to man went past,
As of some dread and fatal deed which they must do at last.
And night and morn and noon they prayed, oh blessed voice of prayer!
That God would bring their trembling souls out of this great despair.
And every straining eye was bent out o'er the ocean-wave,
But they saw no sail, there came no ship the storm-tost barque to save.
The fatal die was cast at length; and tears filled every eye
As forth a gentle stripling slept and gave himself to die.
They looked upon his pure white brow, and his face so fair to see,
And all with one accord cried out, "Oh, God! this must not be!"
And brave Mark Edward calmly said, "Let the lot fall on me."
"Not so," the generous youth exclaimed, "of little worth am I,
But 'twould strike the life from out us all were it thy lot to die."
"Let us once more entreat the Lord; he yet our souls may spare,"
And kneeling down the gray-haired man sent up a fervent prayer.
Oh mighty is the voice of prayer! to him that asks is given,
And as to Israel of old was manna sent from heaven,
So now their prayer was answered, for, leaping from the sea,
A mighty fish fell in their midst, where they astonished be.
"Now glory to the Father be, and to the Son be praise!
Upon the deep He walketh, in the ocean are His ways,
'Tis meet that we should worship Him who doeth right always."
And then from all that noble crew a hymn of joy arose--
It flowed from grateful hearts as free as running water flows.

Day after day still passed away, gaunt Famine pressed again,
Each turned away from each, as if smit with a sudden pain.
The