XXIX.
A FATHER AT THE HELM.
Far, far on the ocean one cold starless night,
A small bark was sailing in pitiful plight:
The boom of the billows, as on rushed the storm,
O’ercame the stout hearts of the men with alarm.
But one in that lone boat was fearless the while,—
The captain’s bright boy:—looking round with a smile:
“The storm threatens,” he said, “but still do not fear,
We safely shall land, for my Father doth steer.”
O why, child of heaven, is thy faithless breast,