And it is not well that we suffer hell
For another’s villainy.”
Thus did they threaten, those sailor-men;
But the master cried, “God of grace!”
And pointed away to the dying day,
Where the sun sank down apace.
And there, from out circles of liquid flame,
Spread abroad on the ocean’s breast,
Ascended a Hand, like the sight of land,
From under the shining west.