Then "We're not moping,"

They sweetly sang,

"Winds come groping

And clouds o'erhang,

But we're not moping

Tho left ashore;

They'll come to us at dusk when day is o'er."

But swifter than God the sea-quake came,

(The fishers they were swallowed in its swirling)

O swifter than men could name God's name.

And white waves curling

Hissed in to shore.

The sea-birds whirling

Saw what, dashed hoar?

The sea-birds whirling

Saw dead upborne

The fishers that went forth upon the morn.

[Pg 42]

[Pg 42]

A PRAYER

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