Who led us through that fierce array
Of foes, so stern and dark,
The buffet of whose iron hands
Could crush the strongest bark?
Who brought us from their fearful realm
Unscathed, the tale to tell,
At home, amid a listening group,
While tears of rapture swell?
Forget Him not,—that God of love,
But pay the worship due,
And on the altar of the soul
The incense-flame renew,
To Him, who foiled that frigid host
Who on their Ocean path,
So terrible in beauty frowned,
So pitiless in wrath.
*The scene here described occurred to the steamship "Great Western," which on her voyage between Europe and the United States, in 1841, passed through a fleet of icebergs, reported by Capt. Hoskins, as between three and four hundred in number, headed by one larger than the rest, whose length was computed at three quarters of a mile, and its entire altitude, above and below the surface, at four hundred feet.
