F 74 
 .G5 S2 
 Copy 1 
 
 €l)e ODcean; 
 
 THANKSGIVING SERMON. 
 
 REV. MILES SANFORD. 
 
G 
 
 THE OCEAN; 
 
 SERMON 
 
 ^^r^arjirh nu €jinnkHgiiiing ^u\, P.mmhi 27, 1851, 
 
 OCCASIONED BY THE 
 
 SAD CALAMITY WHICH BEFEl THE AMERICAN FISHING FLEET 
 
 NORTHERN SHORE OF PRINCE EDWARD'S ISLAND, OCTOBER 3d & 4tli, 1851, 
 
 SIGNAL DELIVERANCES THERE WROUGHT. 
 
 REV. MILES SANFORD, 
 
 Pastor of the First Baptist Church in Gloucester, Mass. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 J. M. HE WES & CO., PRINTERS, 
 
 81 Conihill. 
 
 1851. 
 
Vii 
 
 •GisS^ 
 
 Gloucester, Dec. 17, 1851. 
 Eev. Miles Sanford : 
 
 Dear Sir, — The general expression of deep interest in the sermon 
 preached by you on Thanksgiving Day, the 27th ult., on the part of those 
 who had the privilege of listening to it, together with the belief that it is 
 admirably adapted to benefit that large and interesting class of our fellow 
 citizens, tor whom it was more particularly prepared, has induced us re- 
 spectfully to solicit a copy for the press. 
 
 We are yours, very truly, 
 
 John Woodbury, 
 George Garland, 
 Charles C. Pettingell, 
 John Pew, 
 Joshua P. Trask. 
 
 282:^ 
 
 Gloucester, Dec. 22, 1851. 
 Messrs. John Woodbury, Geo. Garland, 
 
 Chas. C. Pettingell, John Pew, and Joshua P. Trask. 
 
 Gentlemen, — Your note of the 1 7th inst. is received. In answer to 
 your request for a copy of my Thanksgiving Sermon for the press, I have 
 only to say, that with some slight changes made necessary by the hurry of 
 composition, and the addition of a paragraph or two, to give greater com- 
 pleteness to the closing appeal, I submit it to you as delivered. 
 
 Praying that its publication may be a word in season to some soul care- 
 less of the impressive lessons taught by the recent calamity and its wonder- 
 ful deliverances, 
 
 I am. Gentlemen, 
 
 With much esteem, yours. 
 
 Miles Sanford. 
 
SERMON. 
 
 " TUEY THAT GO DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS, THAT DO BUSINESS IN 
 GREAT WATERS; THESE SEE THE WORKS OF THE LORD, AND HIS WON- 
 DERS IN THE DEEP. FOR HE COMMANDETH, AND RAISETH THE STORMY 
 WIND, WHICH LIFTETH UP THE WAVES THEREOF. THEY MOUNT UP TO 
 THE HEAVEN, THEY GO DOWN AGAIN TO THE DEPTHS: THEIR SOUL IS 
 MELTED BECAUSE OF TROUBLE. THEY REEL TO AND PRO, AND STAG- 
 GER LIKE A DRUNKEN MAN, AND ARE AT THEIR WIT'S END. THEN 
 THEY CRY UNTO THE LORD IN THEIR TROUBLE, AND HE BRINGETH 
 THEM OUT OF THEIR DISTRESSES. HE MAKETH THE STORM A CALM, SO 
 THAT THE WAVES THEREOF ARE STILL. THEN ARE THEY GLAD BE- 
 CAUSE THEY BE aUIET ; SO HE BRINGETH THEM UNTO THEIR DESIRED 
 HAVEN. OH THAT MEN WOULD PRAISE THE LORD FOR HIS GOODNESS, 
 AND FOR HIS WONDERFUL WORKS TO THE CHILDREN OF MEN." 
 
 Psalm cvii. 23-31. 
 
 Agreeably to the proclamation of His Excellency the 
 Governor of the Commonwealth, we have met here this 
 day, to offer up to God thanksgiving and praise for the 
 mercies and blessings He has conferred upon us the past 
 year. 
 
 The observance of days of Thanksgiving, and at this 
 season of the year, is sanctioned by the practice of many 
 nations from the earliest times. The festivals of the 
 ancient Greeks, and some of their cotemporaries, Avere 
 held in the fall, after gathering in the fruits of the earth, 
 when, prompted by gratitude, they offered up sacrifices 
 to heaven for the plenty which had abounded, accompa- 
 nying them by a variety of social festivities. The Israel- 
 
ites had their yearly Feast of Tabernacles — a feast of 
 gratitude for the fruits and vintage, and continuing eight 
 days. During this time the people dwelt in booths formed 
 of green branches interwoven together. The festive char- 
 acter of the occasion, the mild October w^eather, the pleas- 
 ant excitement of social intercourse on so large a scale, and 
 the object of the gathering, were well calculated to pre- 
 dispose them to thanksgiving. They sang hymns to God 
 for His bounties and mercies, gave and received enter- 
 tainments, which were genuine merry meetings intended 
 to supply good cheer to widows, orphans, strangers, as 
 well as to the offerer and his friends. Moses speaks of 
 banquets like these, as rejoicings before Jehovah. The 
 old Saxons had a similar custom, always setting aside 
 a week after harvest for holydays ; and the festal ' ' har- 
 vest-home " in England is only a continuation of the 
 ancient practice. The New England festival, popularly 
 denominated Thanksgiving, is the same thing, somewhat 
 modified. 
 
 The principle which underlies all these festal seasons, 
 is a religious one. It is this — That men are bound, as 
 the recipients of God's blessings, to return Him religious 
 gratitude. Hence these Thanksgiving festivals have 
 always been attended by religious rites of some kind, and 
 among Christians, by those most directly calculated to 
 effect the great end they propose — the offering up of true 
 and sincere gratitude to God. This, indeed, is the real 
 intent of our old, time-honored Thanksgiving in New 
 England ; though frequently, I am sorry to say, it is 
 made to play an ignoble part in ministering to the low 
 recreations of the depraved — recreations unfitted alike 
 either for the elevation of the mind or the benefit of the 
 heart. 
 
Now, what can be more fitting — what more appropri- 
 ate, than the sanctification of this clay to those acts which 
 express gratefuhiess to God ? The fruits of the earth are 
 gathered in ; the Labors of the husbandman, both on the 
 land and on the ocean, have been liberally rewarded by 
 the fruition of a plentiful harvest. But when to all this, 
 which claims the giving back of our gratitude to God, in 
 common with others, is added the great and signal deliv- 
 erances, which He wrought for multitudes a few weeks 
 ago, when they were so fearfully imperilled upon a dis- 
 tant coast ; what more befitting than this Thanksgiving 
 festival, to give expression to the emotions of our swelling 
 hearts ? The gratitude of those on the .shore, to whom 
 the return of friends has been like " life from the dead," 
 is afresh demanded by this hardly to be expected restor- 
 ation. The gratitude of those who were saved from the 
 destruction of the "stormy wind" and the lifted 
 " waves," when they were " at their wit's end," is also 
 due to Him who made " the storm a calm," stilled the 
 waves, and brought " them unto their desired haven." 
 
 In keeping with this thought — indeed as its best ex- 
 pression — is the whole language of the text. Nothing in 
 the Bible so fully or fitly represents or enforces it. If 
 written for lis, and specially designed as a declaration of 
 our gratitude to God for what I know we all regard as 
 a most glorious display of the Divine goodness to us, it 
 could not have more aptly represented our case. 
 
 While the ocean is an object of interest to all men, 
 instructing them, as it does, in God's wisdom, great- 
 ness and power, it has an especial interest to us — an 
 interest it cannot have to those who are engaged in 
 agriculture and the mechanic arts. Mani/ of us have 
 relatives — fathers, husbands, brothers and sons — and all 
 
of US friends, who " do business in great waters." The 
 treasures of the ocean are our stock in trade, the source 
 of our comforts, hixuries and Avealth. The ocean is the 
 theatre of our enterprise. On the decks of our stanch 
 vessels, which fly like the eagle hastening to his prey, 
 we see " the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the 
 deep." We are delighted by the glories of the ocean — 
 glories which speak to us of the wisdom of Him who 
 " holdeth the waters in the hollow of His hand." We 
 are awed by its perils — perils which give us a view of 
 His power scarcely matched by any other in the entire 
 realm of nature. Come then, and let us contemplate the 
 ocean in the three views presented in the text. 
 
 I. As a forcible instructor to those that " go down to 
 the sea in ships," of God's wisdom, greatness, and power. 
 
 II. In the effect its exhibition of God's works and 
 wonders produces upon those who thus behold it. 
 
 III. The thanksgiving and praise due Him from those 
 He delivers from the dangers of the sea. 
 
 I. While the ocean is a most impressive illustration, 
 and, therefore, a most forcible instructor of the Divine 
 wisdom, greatness and power, to all who dwell upon its 
 shores, as well as all who are acquainted with the ten 
 thousand wonders it discloses, it is especially so to those 
 who are said to "go down to the sea in ships." '■'■These 
 see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep," 
 to an extent and in a way which far surpass, in every 
 thing that constitutes impressiveness, any viev/ it presents 
 to him who has never sailed upon its waters or explored 
 its depths. The difference between the two, is the dif- 
 ference between an almost utter ignorance of what the 
 ocean is, and an every-day converse with it in its beauty 
 and grandeur, its majesty and awfulness ; or, what is the 
 
same thing, in other words, the difference between read- 
 ing a description of it, and looking upon its wonders, and 
 listening to its thousand murmurings of God day after 
 day. But my object is not to show the advantages which 
 those who go upon the ocean have over those upon the 
 shore, for seeing and knowing the works of the Lord ; it 
 is rather to exhibit the ocean as a forcible instructor to 
 seamen of God's wisdom, greatness and power. 
 
 Every thing which shows marks of contrivance and 
 skill, is an indication of wisdom. On what a scale of 
 greatness, then, does the ocean indicate to seamen, and 
 others who are conversant with the sea, the wisdom of 
 Him who stills the raging of the waters, and binds 
 them in a garment.* When they reflect that the ocean 
 they traverse day by day, is filled with fish, from the 
 "leviathan"! which "plays therein," and breaks in 
 pieces the thick-ribbed ship, to those so small that the 
 eye can hardly see them, and which are very weakness 
 itself ; that in numbers, beauty, size and strength, they 
 present an almost infinite variety ; that many of them 
 are for food, and that the supply is inexhaustible ; that 
 others furnish light, by which the student at night reads 
 on the page of science of the wonders and mysteries 
 they see, — when they look upon the shells which are 
 scattered in caves, once filled with the waters of the 
 ocean, or lie half buried in the sand upon its shores, with 
 their variety of shape, their difference of size, their exquis- 
 iteness of coloring, their smoothness of surface, — when 
 they consider that it is the ceaseless exhalations of the 
 sea that form every cloud, supply every spring, and fill 
 every river that bears back the gathered drops to their 
 
 * Prov. 30:4. f P^a- ^^^'- 26. 
 
parent bed ; that these exhalations give fertility to the 
 earth, growth to its plants, and tints to its flowers, — 
 when all these things receive their attention, as receive it 
 they do, they are made acquainted with wonders wdiicli 
 proclaim to them the contrivance and skill by which such 
 an ocean was formed. They are thus forcibly instructed 
 in the w^isdom of that God who is above and around them. 
 
 In the Bible they learn that God has given the sea his 
 " decreed place," and set around " bars and doors, and 
 said, Hitherto shalt thou come but no further, and here 
 shall thy proud waves be stayed " ;* declarations which 
 proclaim to them God's greatness, wisdom and powder. 
 Now w^herever they go on the ocean, they see the proofs 
 of their truth, and the whole representation becomes con- 
 firmed. Every shore they visit is an evidence that the 
 sea has his "decreed place," his "bars and doors." And 
 though the angry storm may hurl the waters upon the 
 land, they know that the shore shall lift up against them 
 its everlasting defences, its chain of rock and sand, say- 
 ing, " Hitherto shalt thou come but no further, and here 
 shall thy proud waves be stayed." How forcibly there- 
 fore are they who "go down to the sea in ships," taught 
 the wisdom, greatness and power of God. 
 
 The ocean gives to the sailor an idea of vastness. So 
 does the mighty plain, upon which he sometimes travels ; 
 but not like the ocean. When only a few miles from the 
 shore, he is upon a vast plain of waters whose only boun- 
 dary is the circling sky. And when he reflects that 
 what his eye takes in is scarcely equal to a hundred 
 thousandth part of what it cannot ; that the ocean covers 
 a surface three times greater than the land ; what an idea 
 
 * Job :iS : 8-11. 
 
of vastness must impress itself upon him, as he roams 
 over his home of waters. If, as philosophy has demon- 
 strated, each drop of water has 20,000,000 of parts, how 
 illimitable, I had almost said, the aggregate of watery 
 particles which make up the sea, covering, as it does, an 
 area of almost 150,000,000 of square miles, and extend- 
 ing to depths no measuring-line has ever fathomed ! 
 What a world of waters are piled in its depths, heave on 
 its surface, and dash on its shores ! Now they who " do 
 business in great waters," live amid all this vastness — -a 
 vastness which is constantly graving itself into their souls 
 in characters which time can never wear out, nor memo- 
 ry forget. Between these mighty facts as a premise, and 
 God's greatness as a conclusion, there is but a single 
 step, and that step one that the facts themselves will 
 compel, I might almost say, the 7nost illiterate to take, of 
 all who adventure themselves upon the sea. It is this — 
 If the ocean itself be thus great, what must He be who 
 dug its deep fountains with His hand, traced its shores 
 with His finger, and filled its reservoirs with water ! Is 
 it not so 1 When you have thought of the ocean in its 
 magnitude, as thought you have, has not that other 
 thought. — God is infinitely greater than all this, come 
 upon you with a grandeur and a power that were over- 
 whelming ? 
 
 But it is not in all this, that the ocean most forcibly or 
 directly speaks to those who "go down to the sea in 
 ships," of "the works of the Lord, and His wonders in 
 the deep." An ocean storm more fearfully and impres- 
 sively discloses God's greatness and power than any 
 thing else ; more even than any storm on land, however 
 terrible. When God " commandeth and raiseth the 
 stormy wind which lifteth up the waves thereof, they 
 
 •2 
 
10 
 
 mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths, 
 their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and 
 fro and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their 
 wit's end." A description whose truth to fact none 
 knows better than the maViner — than some whom I now 
 address. Look at the heavens. They are clear and 
 serene. The sky wears its deep azure. The waters are 
 quiet, and transparent as crystal. Their depths give 
 back as a mirror, ship and sky and shore, revealing in the 
 reversed images a world below^, almost as distinctly as 
 the clear air does a world above. The winds are at rest ; 
 and wherever the eye reaches, the ships lie motionless 
 upon the waters. That is the calmness of nature. But 
 anon the heavens begin to put on haze, and here and 
 there a cloud flecks the sky. The winds puff out the 
 lazy sails, and the sluggish ship once more moves on 
 her course, while the gentle cadences of the parted 
 waters melt into the soul in tones of musical sweetness. 
 A storm is mustering its forces for the elemental conflict. 
 The winds are every moment gathering strength, and are 
 already lifting up the waves. Now% they are down in 
 their fury ! The breath of God is upon the sea ; and its 
 mighty masses move in surging mountains, and yawn in 
 frightful valleys. The winds howl in their madness, and 
 roar in the tones of the tempest. How the showering 
 spray leaps from the breaking waves into the watery 
 valleys, as the hurricane thunders on over the waters. 
 Rocks, which no human power could lift from their rest- 
 ing-places, are torn from their strong foundations, and 
 thrown upon the shore as if they had been pebbles. But 
 where are the ships wdiich a few hours ago lay upon the 
 bosom of the ocean like the sleeping infant ? Frightened 
 like doves in the tempest, they are mounting up the steep 
 
11 
 
 sides of the walled waters to the heavens, or plunging 
 into the deep abyss below. Some have outrode the storm. 
 Others, in running for the sheltering port, have struck 
 upon some treacherous bar or hidden rock. Others are 
 carried down into the boiling waters hke drops of rain, 
 and all on board 
 
 " Sink into [their] depths with bubbling groan, 
 Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown." 
 
 Others are stranded, and broken up by the surf, while 
 their crews, whose shrieks and cries for help are as so 
 many whispers, scarcely heard amid the voices of the 
 storm, are tossed upon the shore lifeless lumps of clay. 
 But ! what is human language to describe what cannot 
 be adequately described when sea and sky are brought 
 together, and the strong ships are destroyed by the breath 
 of the Almighty ? Words are tame upon such a theme ; 
 tame to describe what must be seen and known to be real- 
 ized and understood. 
 
 Having considered the ocean as a forcible instructor to 
 those that " go down to the sea in ships," of God's wis- 
 dom, greatness and power, I pass to notice, 
 
 II. The effects which its exhibition of God in these 
 several particulars, produces on those who thus behold it. 
 Among the effects produced upon thinking mariners, 
 as they witness " the works of the Lord, and His wonders 
 in the deep," are reverence and awe, not always sufficient, 
 and perhaps seldom, to prevent some from profaning 
 God's name. Still they must admire— they ^o— God's 
 wisdom, greatness and power, as illustrated by the vast- 
 ness of the ocean, and its uses, as seen in its exhalations, 
 and for the purposes of commerce. This admiration leads 
 to reverence and awe. But whatever are the effects pro- 
 
12 
 
 duced upon those who see the works of the Lord in the 
 ocean, one thing is certain — its fierce storms are often 
 the means, under God, of making a deep religious im- 
 pression upon careless and wicked mariners, genuine in its 
 character and lasting in its duration. When reeling to 
 and fro and staggering like drunken men ; when ' ' at 
 their wit's end," and charts and compass, and a bold 
 crew, and nautical skill are all baffled, and their wisdom 
 has become folly ; then " their soul is melted because of 
 trouble;" and " they cry unto the Lord." A man on 
 the ocean, when there is no danger, is apt, like others, to 
 be careless regarding God and the claims of eternity. 
 But it seems to me, that indifference upon these solemn 
 subjects among seamen^ is less excusable than in others ; 
 though by this I do not mean to say that any one is ex- 
 cusable in turning away from any exhibition of God's 
 character made known to him either in nature or grace. 
 In addition to the ordinary disclosures unfolded to them 
 in the gospel of Jesus Christ, which they have in common 
 Avith others, they have " the works of the Lord and His 
 wonders in the deep," which can be fulhj realized by 
 none as themselves. But with all this, seamen, like 
 others, steel their hearts against God. But when trouble 
 comes, how they are changed ! Then poor, puny man 
 sees his weakness, and feels his guilt in casting off fear 
 and restraining prayer. Then the hardened soul is melt- 
 ed. Eternity is too near for indifference ; and a disre- 
 garded God has spoken too loud for the closed ear to be 
 deaf. And if there is one place more than another, that 
 produces reverence for God's name among the profane, 
 and makes him pray who never prayed before, it is the 
 deck of a disabled ship in momentary danger of destruc- 
 tion. Then men " cry unto the Lord." It is the hour 
 
13 
 
 of trouble ; and human weakness and God's sufficiency 
 are revealed under aspects which overwhelm the endan- 
 gered soul. It is an old saying, " Let them that would 
 learn to pray, go to sea." When the heathen mariners, 
 who had charge of the ship in which the disobedient Jo- 
 nah was fleeing to Tarshish, were overtaken by a storm, 
 they " cried every man to his god ;" and so proper and 
 necessary was it, in their judgment, that aid for deliver- 
 ance should be sought for to some controlling power, that 
 they awakened the sleeping Jonah, saying " unto him, 
 What meanest thou, sleeper ? Arise, call upon thy 
 God, if so be that God will think upon us, that we perish 
 not." * Prayer at such a time is most certainly appro- 
 priate ; it is more — it is a duty. And though in many 
 instances the discharge of the duty may be extorted from 
 the trembling soul on account of the threatening danger, 
 and the guilt Avhich reveals to itself its want of prepara- 
 tion to appear before an insulted and rejected Christ ; 
 still in others, it comes from a Christian heart Avhich 
 adores God, and resorts to Him as a present help in time 
 of trouble. " Call upon me in the day of trouble," f is 
 the direction of the Christian sailor's heavenly Father — a 
 direction his sense of duty to his Sovereign, his love to 
 his Saviour, and his necessities lead him to obey. 
 
 The next, and last particular brought to view in the 
 text, is 
 
 III. The thanksgiving and praise due to God from 
 those He delivers from the dangers of the sea. 
 
 It gives to those thus delivered no less an instructive 
 and impressive view of God's greatness and power, that 
 He who raises the storm can put it to rest. " The Lord 
 
 * Jonah 1:6. f Psa. 50: 15. 
 
14 
 
 on. high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, 
 than the mighty waves of the sea." * " Thou rulest the 
 raging of the sea : Avhen the waves thereof arise, thou 
 stillest them." f " He maketh the storm a calm, so that 
 the waves thereof are still." What astonishing exhibi- 
 tions of Almighty power are here set forth. God takes 
 the wild winds, with which He hath lifted up the waters, 
 into His fists, and treads down the huge billows. 
 
 The ultimate result, alluded to in our text, is a deliv- 
 erance granted in answer to the prayer of those who are 
 in peril. ' ' They cry unto the Lord in their trouble ; he 
 bringeth them out of their distresses. Then are they 
 glad because they be quiet ; so he bringeth them unto 
 their desired haven." The duty of those to whom God 
 grants such marked deliverances, and for whom He has 
 made bare his mighty arm, is plain : ' ' Let them sacrifice 
 the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare his works with 
 rejoicing." | We wonder not that the Psalmist should 
 say from a full and overcharged heart, " that men 
 would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His won- 
 derful works to the children of men." Life is dear ; 
 home is precious ; and he to Avhom God gives a new 
 lease of the one, and the privilege of greeting the loved 
 objects of his affection in the other, that can refuse a 
 tribute so just and so reasonable, is guilty of an ingrati- 
 tude as monstrous as it is strange. 
 
 The thanksgiving and praise suggested by these deliv- 
 erances and taught as a duty those owe to God for whom 
 they have been accomplished, are not the cold expression 
 of the lips, playing around the head and never touching 
 the heart. They are not songs in the sanctuary, and the 
 
 * Psa. 93 : 4. f Psa. 89 : 9. J Psa. 107 : 22. 
 
15 
 
 bended knee before the throne, when the soul is all can- 
 kered with a spirit of worldliness. God will accept no 
 such halt and lame sacrifices as these for thanksgiving 
 and praise. He wants the glowing affection and the 
 earnest life. He therefore calls the rescued to lay them- 
 selves on the altar of consecration for a whole burnt- 
 offering and a sweet-smelling savor unto the Lord. The 
 thanksgiving and the -pYnise He requires are, I repeat it, 
 sanctified hearts and lives, Avhich shall flow back to him. 
 He asks a gratitude which shall exceed all earthly grati- 
 tude, and surpass it in its warmest manifestations, as the 
 sun outshines the stars. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 The subject just discussed, though interesting at any 
 time, is peculiarly so to us at the present ; an intimation 
 in which I am undoubtedly anticipated by all before me. 
 The catastrophe to which I briefly alluded at the opening 
 of this discourse, is too recent, and too disastrous to all 
 that makes life beautiful, or bright, or affecting, to need 
 any poor words of mine, to quicken your recollection or 
 arouse your reflection. Still, a recital of the more promi- 
 nent events thereof, and a consideration of the practical 
 thoughts they naturally suggest, Avill not, I trust, be 
 without interest or profit. 
 
 Scarcely eight weeks have gone by, since the dreadful 
 disaster occurred in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, which has 
 carried mourning and desolation to so many firesides in 
 New England. The third and fourth days of October, 
 1851, will not soon be forgotten either by the survivors 
 or their friends. The afternoon of the 3d is spoken of by 
 those who were in the Gulf, as having been warm and 
 
16 
 
 still. Though the sky ^Yas heavily clouded, no indica- 
 tions of the approaching tempest were apparent, except- 
 ing a lurid brassy appearance to the north and northwest 
 about sunset, regarded in the West Indies as the sure 
 harbinger of a hurricane. An hour or so after sunset, 
 the wind commenced blowing from the southeast. About 
 ten o'clock at night it hauled into the east, where it re- 
 mained till next day afternoon, Avhen, changing into the 
 northeast, it became a most violent gale, which continued 
 w^ith almost unabated force until nearly noon, on Sunday 
 the 5th. 
 
 A few miles from the north shore of Prince Edward's 
 Island, and about midway between the extreme horns of 
 its bend — the curvature of the shore being in shape like 
 a crescent — were some three hundred and fifty or four 
 hundred fishing vessels. The harbors on the coast being 
 difficult of access at any time, on account of the bars 
 which 'stretch across their several mouths, and without 
 lights, their entrance at night, or in a storm, is almost 
 impossible. As the wind blew a fierce gale from the 
 northeast, and most of the fleet lay down in the deepest 
 part of the shore's indentation, where the water is shoal 
 and the sea ran mountain high,* their situation was most 
 desperate, as the sad sequel proved. He who raised the 
 " stormy wind," find lifted " up the waves," drives that 
 fleet into the midst of the impending perils of this dread- 
 ed lee shore ; while the difficulties of their position are 
 
 * This is no exaggeration. The following statement, from the schooner 
 Edwin, of Newburj-^port, sustains the remark. She says, that when work- 
 ing along the north shore of Prince Edward's Island towards East Cape, in 
 compan)' with a Gloucester vessel, during the gale, she could see nothing of 
 her Avhen in the trough of the sea, though not more than three hundred 
 yards distant. Similar statements are made by others, regarding the great 
 height of the .sea in a severe storm. 
 
 HT 
 
17 
 
 every moment thickening, and gathering to the destroy- 
 ing point, the dangers about them. Now " their soul is 
 melted because of trouble ; they reel to and fro and stag- 
 ger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end. Then 
 they cry unto the Lord in their trouble." There was 
 prayer in that fleet, during those dark and terrible hours, 
 from multitudes who before had only profaned the name 
 of God, though there were many there, I trust, who loved 
 and revered it. Their prayer was heard ; and he who 
 sends the winds abroad to do His will, and imprisons 
 them at pleasure, "delivered them out of their dis- 
 tresses." But others cry to God in vain. Their deter- 
 mined days and their numbered months have run out, and 
 they have reached the utmost limit of their appointed 
 bounds.* Before thirty hours have passed, one-fourth of 
 that fleet is destroyed, and a hundred and fifty stiffened 
 corpses are sleeping beneath the waters, and cast upon 
 the shore. t Several vessels founder at their anchors, 
 while the crews are swept from the decks or drowned in 
 the cabins. Others dash against each other in the fierce 
 strife of the elements, and go down, ships and crew, into 
 the torn and frantic ocean, like lead ; the deep waters 
 rolling over them as if nothing had happened. 
 
 As soon as the intelligence reached Pictou, it was tele- 
 
 * Job 14 : 5. 
 
 f The whole number of vessels driven ashore and lost, Is not far from 
 seventy-five ; and the actual loss of life, as near as can be ascertained, about 
 one hundred and fifty persons. Some families have suffered severely. 
 Capt. George Wixon, of Harwich, Mass., lost four sons. He recovered the 
 bodies of three, and the body of the fourth came ashore, it is supposed, but 
 so mutilated that it could hardly be identified. On board the Actor, of 
 Newburyport, which has not been heard from since the gale, and is proba- 
 bly lost, were six persons belonging to Seabrook, N. H. ; and in three in- 
 stances — the whole — they were father and son. 
 3 
 
18 
 
 graphed to Boston, and in a short time borne to every 
 fishing town in New England. As at first received, the 
 news Avas provokingly indefinite and ambiguous — the 
 number of vessels stranded or foundered ranging from one 
 hundred to two hundred, and the lives lost, from three 
 hundred to five hundred. But what vessels had suffered, 
 and who were lost, was enveloped in a painful uncer- 
 tainty, to which the accounts of several subsequent days 
 added but little information, either reliable or definite. 
 The excitement of course became intense. The feelings 
 awakened, the fears aroused, the solicitude manifested, 
 exceeded any thing I ever saw. Upon every arrival of 
 the mail or cars, the eager inquiry was, " Is there any 
 news from the Bay ? " Indeed, this was almost the only 
 question asked for days. In every street, in every house, 
 in every shop, in every store, in every office, on every 
 wharf, it was the one all-absorbing topic of conversation. 
 The probability of this rumor, and the improbability of 
 that, Avere discussed and looked at from every possible 
 point of view. The fiicts of to-day were contradicted 
 to-morrow, and what to-day was startling rumor which 
 made men hold their breath in terror, became next day 
 awful realities, bearing desolation in their train, covering 
 stricken families with the pall of mourning, and filling 
 their hearts with a grief which drank up the spirits. 
 Some took surmises for realities ; and their imaginations, 
 wild and excited, and drifting hither and thither, like the 
 dismantled ship in the tempest, filled them with feelings 
 bordering on despair. 
 
 But as great as this calamity was to multitudes abroad, 
 it has fallen but lightly on this community. Though the 
 loss of property and life probably exceeds, as a whole, 
 that of any similar disaster, the loss of either, here, has 
 
19 
 
 been comparatively small.* The actual loss in property 
 has not, I learn, been greatly in advance of the cost of 
 an ordinary insurance. Of the many hundreds of our 
 citizens and neighbors who were in the storm, but four- 
 teen J are certainly known to have been lost, though the 
 crew of another vessel | have undoubtedly passed into 
 
 " That inidiscovered country, from whose bourn 
 No traveller returns." 
 
 Five of the fourteen are buried on the desolate island of 
 Margaree.§ The rest have gone down to an ocean grave, 
 with the w^aters for their winding-sheet, while over them 
 the hoarse north winds and the gentle south shall play 
 their funeral dirge, till the morning of the resurrection 
 
 * The Avhole number of vessels belonging to the Gloucester fleet, within 
 the Gut of Canso at the time of the gale, was 112, which, with 19 belonging 
 to Annis-Squam and Rockport, and a dozen or so to other places, but fitted 
 out from Gloucester, made the whole number from the District of Glouces- 
 ter over 140. Of this number, probably from 110 to 115 were within 
 range of the storm. Onl}' six of these were lost, viz., the Daniel P. King, 
 Eleanor, Red Wing, Garland, Flirt, and Princeton — the last two losing 
 their entire crews, 24 men. 
 
 "I" The crew of the Flirt. Their names and residence are as follows : — 
 Aaron Stubbs, Master, and Wm. Forbes, of Gloucester; Jos. Chandler, 
 John Stubbs, Hugh Harden, Edward Mouser, Win. Dauphney, and George 
 Fenley, of Liverpool, N. S. ; Stephen Nickerson, of Argyle, N. S. : Dean 
 W. Woodbury, and JNIr. Smith, of Rockport ; Mr. Shaw, of York, Me. ; 
 and two, of Chatham, whose names are iniknown. 
 
 J The Princeton. As nothing has been heard from her since the gale, 
 she is undoubtedly lost, with all her crew, ten in number. The following 
 are their names and residence : — Thomas Guard, master, Charles Wonson, 
 Jr., and John Gerring, Jr., of Gloucester ; Peter Shean, and W. W. Shean, 
 of Mai-blehead ; Solomon IMehlman, John Morrissey, and Wm. Duffy, of 
 Boston ; Arnold jNIason, of Eastport, Me. ; and Warren Pinkham, of Edge- 
 comb, Me. 
 
 § A small island laid down upon the chart as Seal Island, twenty-one 
 miles northeast of Port Ilood, Ca])e Breton, and about three miles from its 
 western shore. 
 
20 
 
 shall call them from their sepulchres. But by far the 
 larger mimber of those in peril have been brought " unto 
 their desired haven." You have been restored to your 
 families and friends, some of you almost miraculously ; 
 and they and you have had your prayers answered. ' It 
 was your strong desire to see them again ; it was theirs 
 to see you. God has granted the privilege to you both. 
 He has been better to you than your fears. Is it not 
 your duty, therefore, to return Him thanksgiving and 
 praise ? He delivered you who " go dow^n to the sea in 
 ships," when you were " at your wit's end," and there 
 w\as only a plank between you and death. He hushed the 
 thunder of the tempest, and smoothed the billows under 
 your feet. He gave the Avinds and waves charge con- 
 cerning you, and brought you in safety " unto [your] 
 desired haven." He has permitted you to meet in this 
 sanctuary to-day, that you may mingle your prayers and 
 your praises for the deliverances He has wrought for you. 
 *' Exalt Him [then] in the congregation of the people, 
 and praise Him in the assembly of the elders. Sacrifice 
 [to-day] the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare His 
 works with rejoicing." 
 
 To these reasons for the exercise of gratitude and the 
 service of Him who has delivered you, permit me to add 
 another — your own pledges. I have already spoken of 
 the prayers which were offered up in this fearful storm. 
 Pledges, too, were given. If all the thoughts which 
 filled the souls of the endangered multitudes through 
 those dreadful hours of terror and dismay, could be made 
 to pass before us, we should see written out in imperish- 
 able characters upon the records of an undying, but 
 already slumbering memory — vows of love to God, rever- 
 ence for His name and Word, and consecration to Christ. 
 
21 
 
 You promised God, that if He would save you, your 
 hearts, your lives, your all, should henceforth be His. 
 Have these promises been fulfilled ? — these vows been 
 redeemed ? The same ear which heard your prayers 
 when they rose above the tempest and the storm, also 
 heard your promises and vows. 
 
 But those who were rescued from a watery grave are 
 not alone in this matter. Many on the shore solemnly 
 promised God, that if He would restore to them their 
 friends, they would ever after be Christ's. Unrepenting 
 sinners promised to forsake their sins, and live for that 
 world whose glorious realities had hitherto received so 
 little of their notice. In the hour of these vows, this 
 world seemed little to live for. Sublunary vanities ap- 
 peared in their true light ; as too small and trivial to 
 engross a soul destined to exist forever. But how is it 
 now ? Where are your pledges ? Are they forgotten 1 
 I fear, alas ! that they have even now ceased to occupy 
 your thoughts, and that the attractions of the world, now 
 that the danger is past, and your friends have returned, 
 have hid them from your eyes. 
 
 Here then you are, with these vows upon your souls. 
 You who have been saved, and you who have received 
 the saved back in safety, are here, the monuments of 
 God's delivering and defending Providence, and the re- 
 cipients of his marvellous mercies ; and yet you refuse 
 to redeem the pledges you gave in the hour of trouble. 
 Such conduct to an earthly benefactor you would pro- 
 nounce monstrous. There is not one of you who would 
 traduce the name of an earthly savior, or speak of it pro- 
 fanely, or decline the fulfilment of any promise you had 
 made him. ! is it less criminal to profane, as I fear 
 some of vou do, the Name of your Heavenly Father, of 
 
22 
 
 Him who " rebuked the winds and the sea ;" or to per- 
 sist, as I fear many of you do, in violating your own 
 solemn pledges, binding upon you religiously and in 
 honor ? 
 
 It is a most affecting thought, that the continued viola- 
 tion of these pledges will aggravate your guilt, harden 
 your hearts, and increase that carelessness which has 
 already become so alarming and ominous of danger. And 
 it is a sadder thought still, that this stupefying process 
 will go on, benumbing your conscience, your judgment, 
 and your sense of obligation, till, in your impiety, you 
 will laugh at the fears which were awakened in the storm, 
 and pour scorn upon the very promises you made there — 
 promises which, had they been fulhlled, would have 
 covered you w4th an enduring glory and filled you with 
 "the peace of God, which passeth all understanding." 
 No longer then refuse the payment of the debt of grati- 
 tude you owe to God, or the redemption of the promises 
 you honestly and sincerely made. If you obey the truth, 
 trusting in the righteousness of "God your Saviour," 
 " eternal life" shall be your portion and your blessing. 
 "But unto them that do not obey the truth, but obey 
 unrighteousness ; indignation and wrath, tribulation and 
 anguish to every soul of man." 
 
014 079 267 6 
 
 ^W»":i