MIGHTY waves! see how they're raging! How the heavens are rent in twain! Hear the shrieks from yonder vessel! Think you, are the cries in vain ? Launch the Lite-boat! Launch the Life-boat! Echo cries, There's none at hand ! Naught to help that sinking vessel ? Naught to bring those souls to land ? Is there nothing here to help them ? Nothing to give chance of Life ? Nothing! Nothing I answers echo, Pity's useless in the strife.

See the flashing of the lightning! Hear the thunder's awful crash! See the waves' delirious foaming, 'Gainst the rocks the vessel dash! 'Mid the splashing, and the dashing, 'Mid the wild distressing cry, Think you, are those sinking brothers, One and all prepared to die? "Tween the dazzling of the lightning, And the peal of thunder loud, Reels the vessel like a plaything, And the toy the waves enshroud.

Sure it is but feeble efforts From us gallant seamen need: Help the Sailor !—however little, And you sow a precious seed! Seed which, cast upon the waters, Floats about in useful form— Till we see more Life-boats gather Dying men from out the storm.

MARY BRYNINC.

Millom, 1884..