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Hanna, Abigail Stanley

"Withered Leaves from Memory's Garland"


The boat was soon gliding over the foaming ocean, and the sorrowing
friends returned to their homes, for the driving snow and sleet would
not permit them to linger long, to watch its progress.
The last fond look was given, white handkerchiefs fluttered a moment
in the sweeping blast, and the last farewell had passed between many
fond, loving hearts.
The boat pursued her dangerous way, amid "the windy storm and
tempest," and hope animated their bosoms, and some felt sure they
should arrive in safety.
The storm and darkness increased, the wind blew with greater violence,
and the tumultous sea hove up a hollow, bellowing sound, and seemed
threatening swift destruction.
About midnight the boat became unmanageable, and it became evident to
all on board, that many, if not all, must perish.
O, who may paint the agony of that fearful night? when death was
heralding his approach, in the loud surging of the ruthless blast, and
the deep toned thunder of the many voiced waters, as they dashed their
giant waves against the ill-fated bark, that groaned and trembled
beneath their mighty pressure.
Mingling with the tumultous groans of troubled nature, arose a fearful
cry, from lips white with fear.
The solemn voice of prayer went up, and there were none to scoff, when
the aged man bent his knee, and lifted his heart to God in prayer,
beseeching him, for Jesus Christ's sake, to have mercy upon their
souls. Many prayed in that hour of trial that never prayed before.


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