He who rules the swelling wave, When the storm is raging nigh, Can our tortured spirits save From His Throne of Grace on high. And should the angel, Death, Spread his wings above the wave, Then our last, our dying breath, Must be: Save! Oh Jesus, save! Grant us Thy celestial joy In the realms of love and light, Where no toils, no cares annoy, The just one, in Thy sight. Bring our spirits home to Thee, Where the angels’ joyous band, Far above the deep, dark sea, ’Round Thy throne forever stand. Before concluding, it may not be out of place to refer particularly to the noble feelings of fraternal charity which existed among the English people, not only in regard to the Belgians, whom they so generously received and housed, but also with respect to their conduct toward their Catholic fellow-citizens engaged with them in this charitable work. We heard no more of those petty enmities which so often had arisen in times past as to race, creed or nationality. The Catholic priest and Protestant minister worked side by side in this good work. Ladies of every denomination united their efforts and offered their time and money for the sole purpose of helping the needy. No compensation was expected, no material gains to be obtained. Thus every work performed was a work of perfect self-sacrifice, and deserved a greater reward than earth can repay. A golden link in the chain of love will ever more unite the hearts of England and Belgium. Further experience has shown that these golden links have multiplied until the chain extends across the Atlantic, and holds in its friendly tangles the heart of America also; who, of her rich abundance, has dealt out to Belgium the clothing and life-giving foodstuffs which during the past two years have saved the country from famine. When this period of anguish is over and historians are recording for future generations the horrors of this awful conflict, may they also give just praise to the All-wise Being who has caused the fragrant rose of charity to bloom among the weeds of war. We were, or seemed to be, far out in the Irish Sea before we could tear ourselves away from that wonderful sight. The sea was as yet quite calm, and a number of hungry seagulls were flying around as if to bid us a last farewell; so we remained on deck until it was found necessary to enter and make arrangements for the night. We were sadly disappointed on that dismal Hallow E’en in not being able to obtain a glimpse of our own dear little Emerald Isle, so near and dear, and yet so far away.