His CAPTORS. 223 



Dismal State and Prospects. Prayers of the Despairing. 



and nothing awaited them but a watery grave. 

 It was twelve o'clock at noon. The hours of 

 one, two, three, four, five, and six passed slowly 

 away, and still they were floating, almost ex- 

 hausted, upon the heaving billows of the Pa- 

 cific. When the ship rose on the swelling seas, 

 they could just catch a glimpse of her rolling 

 spars. 



" Oh ! how fervently I prayed," said one of 

 these mariners, when afterward relating the 

 scene, "that God would in some way providen- 

 tially interpose and save our lives ! I thought 

 of my wife, of my little children, of my prayer- 

 less life, of the awful account I had to render 

 at the bar of God for grieving the Spirit and 

 neglecting the Savior. All the horrors of this 

 dreadful death were forgotten in the thought, 

 that in one short hour I was to render up an 

 account to God for years of ingratitude and dis- 

 obedience. Oh ! thought I, if I were only a 

 Christian, what a solace would it be to me as 

 I sink into this watery grave !" 



The sun had now disappeared behind the dis- 

 tant waves, and the darkening shades of a dreary 

 night were settling down over the ocean. Just 

 then they descried, dim in the dusky distance, 



