Chapter 26 The Journey's To Liverpool

Like a bark upon the sea,

Life is floating over death;

Above, below, encircling thee,

Danger lurks in every breath.

Parted art thou from the grave

Only by a plank most frail;

Tossed upon the restless wave,

Sport of every fickle gale.

Let the skies be e'er so clear,

And so calm and still the sea,

Shipwreck yet has he to