Part 5

Helplessly the boat was drifting, Death was staring in each face, When he grasped the fallen rudder, Took the pilot's vacant place.

Could he save us? Would he save us? All his hope of life give o'er? Could he hold that fated vessel 'Till she reached the nearer shore?

All our hopes and fears were centered 'Round his strong, unfaltering hand; If he failed us we must perish, Perish just in sight of land.

Breathlessly we watched and waited While the flames were raging fast; When our anguish changed to rapture-- We were saved, yes, saved at last.

Never strains of sweetest music Brought to us more welcome sound

THE DYING BONDMAN. 17

Than the grating of that steamer When her keel had touched the ground.

But our faithful martyr hero Through a fiery pathway trod, Till he laid his valiant spirit On the bosom of his God.

Fame has never crowned a hero On the crimson fields of strife, Grander, nobler, than that pilot Yielding up for us his life.

THE DYING BONDMAN.

Life was trembling, faintly trembling On the bondman's latest breath, And he felt the chilling pressure Of the cold, hard hand of Death.

He had been an Afric chieftain, Worn his manhood as a crown; But upon the field of battle Had been fiercely stricken down.

18 THE DYING BONDMAN.

He had longed to gain his freedom, Waited, watched and hoped in vain, Till his life was slowly ebbing-- Almost broken was his chain.

By his bedside stood the master, Gazing on the dying one, Knowing by the dull grey shadows That life's sands were almost run.

"Master," said the dying bondman, "Home and friends I soon shall see; But before I reach my country, Master write that I am free;

"For the spirits of my fathers Would shrink back from me in pride, If I told them at our greeting I a slave had lived and died;

"Give to me the precious token, That my kindred dead may see-- Master! write it, write it quickly! Master! write that I am free!"

At his earnest plea the master Wrote for him the glad release,

"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM." 19

O'er his wan and wasted features Flitted one sweet smile of peace.

Eagerly he grasped the writing; "I am free!" at last he said. Backward fell upon the pillow, He was free among the dead.

"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."

Only a little scrap of blue Preserved with loving care, But earth has not a brilliant hue To me more bright and fair.

Strong drink, like a raging demon, Laid on my heart his hand, When my darling joined with others The Loyal Legion * band.

But mystic angels called away My loved and precious child, And o'er life's dark and stormy way Swept waves of anguish wild.

* The Temperance Band,

20 "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."