Forsake me not! when thunders rumble o'er me,
When lightnings send their quivering darts to gore me,
When round me hiss the bolts of shell and shot:
Thou Haven of Rest! Forsake, Forsake me not!
Forsake me not! Oh, God of my abidance.
Into Thine hand, child-like, I trust my guidance,
When smit to death, I lie on dreary spot:
God of my Hope! Forsake, forsake me not!
[The hymn having been concluded there reigns a profound silence for a brief time, during which the soldiers, still on their knees, are absorbed in prayer. Then the meeting breaks up. Travis and Crockett come to the foreground, where Bowie lies on a couch, while the volunteers take leave from each other, or look after their arms.]
What are thy dispositions for the storm?
Alas! they are but few! The bayonet
Remains our last resort, since our supply
Of lead and iron, wherewith we might perhaps
Still have repelled the enemy's assault.
Has been exhausted in the fort's defence.
The powder's store alone has still remained