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51
Two mates were drifting thus one night
In lonely silence on the Bay,
Such silence as old comrades know
That means more than a man can say.
Then spoke at last the younger man–
“The Babe is fretting sore to-night;
And pitiful it is to hear
Its cries up yonder on the height!”
And then the twain began to speak
Of that sad story of the place;
And question why such things should he
And what could limit Saving Grace.
“For seemeth me,” the elder said,
“That babe hath more than common loss,
For it was born on holy ground
Though never named with sign of cross.”
“And seemeth me,” he musing said,
“It must have been so nearly saved,
That even now it might be blest
If any man the deed had braved.”
