THE RESCUER'S REQUEST
Listen, did you not hear the cry,
That strong, weak wail of agony,
Of a drowning, struggling soul?
Oh, could I still to the rescue fly,
To live with them or with them to die
Ere the waters o'er them roll!
Hark! 'tis the cry of a last despair,
Lost, lost, on the merciless air;
Tell me, oh friends, midst the storm and flood,
Did I do all that I could?
That strong, weak wail of agony,
Of a drowning, struggling soul?
Oh, could I still to the rescue fly,
To live with them or with them to die
Ere the waters o'er them roll!
Hark! 'tis the cry of a last despair,
Lost, lost, on the merciless air;
Tell me, oh friends, midst the storm and flood,
Did I do all that I could?
My cold lips prayed for Herculean power
In the frightful spell of that awful hour,
When frightened face and when failing form
Were all I saw in the raging storm;
When the strong grew weak and the weak grew strong,
And the moments were years, unsolved and long;
When faces were turned to me
Frozen and white in their agony.
There was one who sought me with pleading eyes,
God only knows where his pale form lies.
In the frightful spell of that awful hour,
When frightened face and when failing form
Were all I saw in the raging storm;
When the strong grew weak and the weak grew strong,
And the moments were years, unsolved and long;
When faces were turned to me
Frozen and white in their agony.
There was one who sought me with pleading eyes,
God only knows where his pale form lies.
There was one who reached out her hands in vain,
Can I ever forget that cry of pain,
While her long, bright tresses, like seaweed strands,
Floated out as she lifted those hopeless hands!
And a child's sweet, silent face went down,
And that hoary head with its glory crown;
While the scoffer's curse and the Christian's prayer
Mingled together on the burdened air;
Is there on my hands one drop of blood?
Tell me, did I do all I could?
Can I ever forget that cry of pain,
While her long, bright tresses, like seaweed strands,
Floated out as she lifted those hopeless hands!
And a child's sweet, silent face went down,
And that hoary head with its glory crown;
While the scoffer's curse and the Christian's prayer
Mingled together on the burdened air;
Is there on my hands one drop of blood?
Tell me, did I do all I could?
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