Unto his roof, but saw ere long small chance
For that frail hut to stand against the storm.
It rocked beneath him as a bark at sea,
The hard wind beat upon him, and the rain
Drenched him and seemed to scourge him as with flails.
He gave himself to God; composed with prayer
His spirit to meet death; when overhead
The swaying oak-limbs seemed to beckon him
To seek the branches' shelter and support.
His prayer till death was that the Lord would bless