In this awful tragedy Of the icy polar sea. Facing death ’mid ice and snow See the loyal comrade go; Knowing nought his life could save Sought he thus a lonely grave. Silently we draw the veil And his mournful end bewail. Months elapse--what is their fate? Wilson, Bowers, alas! Too late: With their chief at length they find In their sleeping bags enshrined, Fresh as when their parting breath Froze within the embrace of death. Saintly looking in their sleep, Only angels o’er them weep; There in royal robes of snow Lie our glorious heroes now. And the message Scott would send: “Guard our loved ones to the end.” Britain’s, Austral’s hearts will be With their dead in that white sea, And their children, not in vain, Oft will read the tale again, And immortal memory shelve Nineteen hundred years and twelve. Not unmarked the way they trod, For it led them up to God. Lo! A cairn above them stands Raised by gentle, loving hands And a cross upon the spot In that grand Antarctic grott, While for aye they will remain Martyrs of the Great White Plain. [Illustration: text decoration] AN AUSTRALIAN HYMN. God of earth’s nations, Thee we sing-- Loud may Australia’s Anthem ring; Look down in mercy from Thy throne And with great empires make her one. Lord, not supreme alone in health, Or might, is she a Commonwealth, But by the grace which Thou hast given To spread her seed beneath the Heaven. Grant that her sons, her citadel, May ever hold impregnable; Swift to defend and slow to hate-- The enemy within her gate. Fair waves her pennon on the breeze, Long may she reign in southern seas; Oh, may Thy power and glory wait Upon her mighty ship of state. Oh, may her empire builders be Faithful to base her dynasty On Truth, with Liberty for shield, And Battle-axe of Justice wield. Yea, Thine the glory, Lord, may she Fulfil her glorious destiny; And Austral’s Anthem ever pour Thy praise till time shall be no more. GOD’S GIFT.