While for her absent sailor boy her heart throbbed quick with fear.
For, far away to foreign lands, her eldest one had sailed.
And oft for fear in such a storm her loving heart had failed.
The stormy wind howled fearfully around their lowly home,
The angry waves dashed on the beach their sheets of glistening foam.
That beach, whose shining sands reflect the sun’s bright sparkling ray,
Is hid from sight amidst the dark, wild, blinding spray.
“Lord, let thy holy will be done,” the pious old man said.
As calm he bent his knees in prayer before he sought his bed,
Though fearful were the stormy blasts and loud the billows’ roar.