STORM on the waters; and the cruel wind Howls like a savage beast whose riven chain Hath loosed to slaughter; on the shore the grind, The rush, the hiss of the vexed waves complain, Sounding like solemn dirge, 'mid plash of driving rain.

Darkness upon the deep! No pale moonbeam Pierces the awful blackness; not a ray Of flickering starlight sheds its cheerful gleam, Shining like Hope upon the sailor's way, Where the lone barque ploughs on 'mid clouds of blinding spray.

Peril at-sea! The huge -waves seem to seethe In awful wrath: their summits curl in foam, Like snow-crowned mountains; and brave men will breathe A prayer for safety, as they think of home And those for whose dear sake they on the waters roam.

Death on the ocean!—for the close-reefed sails Rend into tatters, and stout spars are sprung And shivered, while the helm BO more avails To guide the helpless ship which drifts along To where 'gainst the dark rocks the whitening waves are flung.

Death on the ocean! for a wave lifts high The hapless wreck; then with a shock descending, She strikes: the seas sweep o'er her, and the cry Of drowning men with crash of masts is blending, As o'er the side they fall, bulwarks and timbers rending.

Help on the cruel sea !—and help is near, Help ever ready round Old England's shore ! For keen eyes watch, and hearts that know no fear Are waiting, and strong hands to grasp the oar, The Life-boat speeds to save, or to return no more.

Dawn on the waters!—see the blue and white* Of the stout oars gleam at each lusty sweep With clearer radiance in the pale grey light, As o'er the heaving waves the day-beams creep, Casting through lurid clouds strange lustre o'er the deep.

Help for the helpless .'—from the breaking ship They see her. and the gun its signal booms To haste their coming; and the bright oars' drip And flash and sparkle, seem like angels' plumes To the despairing eyes which Hope once more illumes.

Joy on the sea .'—Swiftly the good boat bears Homeward her rescued freight before the gale: And wives will cease to weep, and mothers' prayers Are changed to blessings, and the children's wail Is hnshed, as on the beach the Life-boat lowers her sail.

Brave English hearts!—no page in Britain's story Shines brighter than the one wherein we see Your deeds recorded. While the warrior's glory Is dimmed by tears and blood, stainless shall be Your wreath who slake FOR LIFE your lives against the sea.

S. CASWELL, Han. Sec., Fleetwood Branch of the Royal National Life-boat Institution.

Jane, 1870.

* The oars of the boats of the NATIONAL LIFE-BOAT INSTITUTION are painted of two colours—those rowed on one side of a boat being blue, and on the other side white; and in all words of command applying to them, the colour is named instead of ihe terms starboard and larboard, which is found to prevent confusion.