but because we heard the voice of God crying in our ears, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature !"
And now the pilot has gone. He has borne with him our last words; friends will hear no more from us until oceans have been crossed by us, and re-crossed by some vessel bearing the news. The pilot in his little dancing craft glides lightly up the bay, and leaves us to plough our slow course through fourteen thousand miles of rolling ocean—the last bond to America is severed, and now—for India ho!
“The sails were filled, and fair the light winds blew,
As glad to bear us from our native home;
And fast the brown rocks faded from our view,
And soon were lost in circumambient foam.”
The Ocean.
“The sea! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free,
Without a mark, without a bound,
It runneth the earth's wide region round;
It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
Or like a cradled creature lies.”
Often had I thus sung when little dreaming of ever making my home for months upon the
