"Go! Master Frank," said the sailor, "I have a boy your age at home, and for his sake, I will stay with you. God would desert him in his need, if I deserted you." The glimmer of a lantern amid the thick darkness shewed that the last boat had pushed off. "And you have stayed here to perish!" And, for the first time, Frank gave way to a bitter flood of tears. Michael put his arm kindly around him, and said, "Do you remember the holy words you were teaching your little sister the other morning? 'Do unto others as you would they should do unto you?'"
"Yes," interrupted Marion, "he taught me, too, a new hymn yesterday; I will say it to you;" and she began to repeat one of Watts's beautiful Hymns for Children. She did not quite know it through; but the last two verses were singularly apposite to their situation:
"There's not a plant or flower below,
But makes thy glories known;
And clouds arise, and tempests blow,
By order from thy throne.
Creatures (as numerous as they be)
Are subject to thy care;
There's not a place where we can flee,
But God is present there."
"Our lives are in His hand, and it may be His will even now to save us: somehow, the words of
