YOU, who dwell in homes of comfort, Circled by the friends you prize ; Don't forget the vessels tossing, Can't you hear the Sailor's cries ? Cries for help, where no one hears him, Cries for mercy from above, Can't imagination picture ? Can't you help him, out of love? All are human, all have feelings, All susceptible to grief; Can't you, from some past experience, Offer Sailors some relief? All have had some care or sorrow, Most know what real trouble means; Can't you picture tossing vessels ? Can't you picture painful scenes ? Rouse the feelings that are dormant, Do not let them slumber on ; When the howling winds are singing, Can't you hear the cruel song ? Lend your hand to tone the picture Of revenge and painful strife; Every one can help to rescue Some brave, honest Sailor's life.

Say not, Oh, my means are little, I'm not able to be kind ! Spare yourself a little pleasure, That another it may find.

Little drops make up the ocean.

Life's composed of moments brief; Every thing is made of littles ; Little helps to give relief.

Dangers great, and perils many, And wild storms should melt the heart Every thing around is teaching, Every one to play his part.

Life's too brief for proud, vain glory, Far too brief to sit at ease ; " Let us then be up and doing," If some grief we can appease.

Help the Sailor! help the Sailor ! Who is tossing far away; Help the Sailor! though 'tis little, For lie's helping us to-day ; Helping to obtain our comforts, Helping some to other scenes ; Gratitude should then reward him, However small may be our means.

A Subscriber to the Settle Branch of the Lifeboat Institution,.