I took the little child away, And set him on my knee, In the free fresh air upon the deck, But he spoke no word to me. I feared at first that all his grief Had robbed him of his speech, And that I ne’er by word or look, His sunken soul could reach. At length he woke from that dead woe, Like one that long hath slept, And cast his arms about my neck, And long and freely wept, I clasped him close unto my breast, Yet knew not what to say, To wile him from the misery That on his spirit lay. At length I did bethink me Of Jesus Christ; and spake To that poor lamb of all the woe He suffered for our sake. “For me and thee, dear child,” I said, “He suffered, and be sure He will not lay a pang on thee Without he give the cure!” Like as the heavy clouds of night Pass from the coming day, So cleared the sullen weight of woe From his dear soul away. Oh happy hours of converse sweet;-- The Christian’s hope he knew, And with an eager heart he gained That knowledge sweet and new. And ever by my side he kept, Loving, and meek, and still: But never more to him returned His bold and wayward will:-- He had been tried and purified From every taint of ill. PART III. The eve whereon the captain died I turned the ship about, And said unto the seamen good, “We’ll find the island out.” So back unto the place we came, Where we the child had found; And two full days with anxious watch, We sailed it all around. And on the third, at break of day, A far-off peak was seen; And then the low-lands rose to view, All woody, rich, and green. Down on his knees the child he fell, When the mountains came in view, And tears ran streaming from his eyes,-- For his own isle he knew. And, with a wildly-piercing tone, He cried, “Oh mother dear, Weep not,--I come, my mother!” Long, long ere she could hear. And soon we saw a mountain-top Whereon a beacon burned; Then as the good ship neared the land, An answer was returned. “Oh give to me my boat!” he cried, “And give to me mine oar!” Just then we saw another boat Pushed from the island-shore. A carved boat of sandal-wood, Its sail a silken mat, All richly wrought in rainbow-dyes, And three within her sat. Down from the ship into the sea The little boy he sprung; And the mother gave a scream of joy, With which the island rung. Like some sea-creature beautiful He swam the ocean-tide, And ere we wondered at his skill He clomb the shallop’s side. Next moment in his mother’s arms He lay, O sweet embrace! Looking from her dear bosom up Into her loving face.