Part 5 (1/2)

Nor did the Sailor so intent His entering footsteps heed, But now the Lord's prayer said, and now His half-forgotten creed.

And often on his Saviour call'd With many a bitter groan, In such heart-anguish as could spring From deepest guilt alone.

He ask'd the miserable man Why he was kneeling there, And what the crime had been that caus'd The anguish of his prayer.

Oh I have done a wicked thing!

It haunts me night and day, And I have sought this lonely place Here undisturb'd to pray.

I have no place to pray on board So I came here alone, That I might freely kneel and pray, And call on Christ and groan.

If to the main-mast head I go, The wicked one is there, From place to place, from rope to rope, He follows every where.

I shut my eyes,--it matters not-- Still still the same I see,-- And when I lie me down at night 'Tis always day with me.

He follows follows every where, And every place is h.e.l.l!

O G.o.d--and I must go with him In endless fire to dwell.

He follows follows every where, He's still above--below, Oh tell me where to fly from him!

Oh tell me where to go!

But tell me, quoth the Stranger then, What this thy crime hath been, So haply I may comfort give To one that grieves for sin.

O I have done a cursed deed The wretched man replies, And night and day and every where 'Tis still before my eyes.

I sail'd on board a Guinea-man And to the slave-coast went; Would that the sea had swallowed me When I was innocent!

And we took in our cargo there, Three hundred negroe slaves, And we sail'd homeward merrily Over the ocean waves.

But some were sulky of the slaves And would not touch their meat, So therefore we were forced by threats And blows to make them eat.

One woman sulkier than the rest Would still refuse her food,-- O Jesus G.o.d! I hear her cries-- I see her in her blood!

The Captain made me tie her up And flog while he stood by, And then he curs'd me if I staid My hand to hear her cry.

She groan'd, she shriek'd--I could not spare For the Captain he stood by-- Dear G.o.d! that I might rest one night From that poor woman's cry!

She twisted from the blows--her blood Her mangled flesh I see-- And still the Captain would not spare-- Oh he was worse than me!

She could not be more glad than I When she was taken down, A blessed minute--'twas the last That I have ever known!

I did not close my eyes all night, Thinking what I had done; I heard her groans and they grew faint About the rising sun.