And so will many a sailor's heart Its supplication send, And pray, while life its strength impart, SECOND STANZAS. Wintry gales are wildly blowing, Lord of earth and sea and sky, When heaven and earth shall pass away, M.H. THE EARTHQUAKE AT SAFED. AMONG all the dreadful judgments with which it has pleased the Almighty God of heaven and earth to visit at different times his rebellious children, an earthquake is, perhaps, the most frightful and appalling. When storms and tempests arise, when pestilence walks through the land, we indeed see the arm of the Lord threatening us with speedy punishment; but we may hope that that uplifted arm is to warn us before it strikes. We may repent and turn unto the Lord, and entreat that his indignation may be turned away. But it is not so with an earthquake. In a moment, without warning and without power of resistance, thousands are at once overwhelmed and summoned to appear before their God, without time to offer one prayer or breathe one sigh-" As the tree falls, so it must lie." It is difficult for those who live in countries where it has not yet pleased God to manifest his power in this manner, fully to appreciate the misery and desolation which are the consequence of an earthquake. And yet, to understand the prophecies, and the dreadful punishment which sin has brought on mankind, as well as to raise in our hearts a grateful sense of God's infinite mercy in still sparing us from such calamities, it is well for us to listen to the accounts from less favoured lands, and sympathize in the sufferings of those who have thus been called to endure God's most awful visitations. And let us not listen in a boastful or uncharitable spirit. If in the sufferers from such awful judgments we behold God's people Israel, let us remember the exhortation of St. Paul and tremble, lest, if God spared not the natural branches, He also spare not us; or if it be our fellow Christians, let us ask ourselves, in the words of Christ, "Suppose ye, that these Galileans were sinners above all the Galileans, because they suffered these things? I tell you nay but except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish. Or those eighteen, upon whom the tower of Siloam fell, and slew them, think ye that they were sinners above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you nay; but, except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." The earthquake, of which I am now going to give you the account, took place on the 1st of January, 1837, at Safed, a town in Galilee, very much frequented by the Jews, who consider it as one of their holy places. It was built on the summit of a hill, and contained a population of eight or nine thousand inhabitants. Some of these people were Christians, some Mahommedans, but the greater part Jews. The Jews lived in one part of the town by themselves, and it was in this quarter that the violence of the earthquake was most terrific; the account is thus given by a gentleman who was travelling in Palestine at the time. "The new year was ushered in by the tremendous shocks of an earthquake, which rent the earth in many places, and in a few moments laid low most of the houses, and buried thousands of the inhabitants beneath the ruins. The castle was utterly thrown down, the houses where the Mahommedans lived, standing on more level ground, and being more solidly built, were somewhat less injured, while the calamity in its full weight fell with relentless fury upon the ill-fated Jews. The very manner in which their houses were erected along the steep hill side, exposed them to a more fearful destruction; for when the terrific shock dashed their dwellings to the ground, those above fell upon those lower down, so that at length the houses occupied by the Jews were covered with masses of ruins. Many were killed outright by the falling ruins; very many were engulphed and died a miserable death before they could be dug out. Some were rescued after five or six days' burial, but, covered with wounds and bruises, only lingered for a few hours in pain and misery, while others, with broken limbs, still lived to recover. Slight shocks continued, at intervals, for several weeks. Five thousand persons are supposed to have perished, of whom about one thousand were Mahommedans, and the rest chiefly Jews. "The spectacle after the earthquake was appalling, and as soon as news of these sufferings arrived at Beiroût, a large town in Syria, contributions were immediately made to relieve the survivors, and persons were appointed to proceed to the scene of distress, in order to superintend the distribution of the various articles contributed, and to provide for the taking care of the wounded." The American missionary was one of those who departed on this errand of mercy, and he gives the following most painful but interesting account of his journey, and of the horrible scenes which he witnessed. "Just before we began to ascend the mountain of Safed, we met our consular agent of Sidon, returning home with his widowed sister. Her husband, a rich merchant of Safed, had been buried up to his neck by the ruins of his fallen house, and in that awful condition. remained several days, begging and calling for help, and at last died before any one was found to assist him. As we ascended the steep mountain, we saw several dreadful rents and cracks in the earth and rocks, showing us what might be expected above; yet nothing prepared us for the reality of that dreadful scene. What a dismal spectacle presented itself! As far as the eye could reach ̄nothing to be seen but one vast mass of stones and earth, timber and boards, tables, chairs, beds, and clothing, mingled in horrible confusion. Men everywhere at work, worn out and woe-begone, uncovering their houses in search of the mangled and putrified bodies of their departed friends; while here and there I noticed companies of two or three each, clambering over the ruins, bearing a dreadful load of corruption to the narrow house appointed for all living. I covered my face, and passed on through the half-living, wretched remnants of Safed. Some men weeping in despair, and some laughing in callousness still more distressing. Here, an old man sat solitary on the wreck of his once crowded house; there a child was at play, too young to know that it had neither father nor mother, brother nor relative, in the wide world. They flocked around us; husbands that had lost their wives, wives their husbands; parents without children, children without parents; and not a few who were left quite alone, having lost all their connexions. The people were scattered abroad, above and below the ruins, in tents of old boards, old carpets, mats, canvass, brushwood, and earth; many dwelling in the open air, while some poor wretches, wounded and bruised, were left among the fallen buildings, every moment exposed to death from the loose rocks around and above them. "As soon as our tent was pitched, we set off to visit the wounded. Creeping under a wretched covering intended for a tent, the first we came to, we found an emaciated young woman lying upon the ground, wrapped in the filthiest garments I ever saw. She was covered with dreadful wounds, all in a state of mortification, and a moment's glance convinced me that she could not possibly live through another day. We sent for some opiate to relieve the intolerable agony of her last hours, and went on to other and equally dreadful scenes. Not to shock the feelings by a detail of what we saw, I will only mention one other case; and I do it to show what immense suffering these poor people have endured for the last eighteen days. Clambering over a heap of ruins, and entering a low vault by a hole, I found eight of the wounded crowded together under a vast pile of crumbling rocks; some with legs broken in two or three places, others so horribly lacerated and swollen, as scarcely to retain the shape of mortals; while all, left without washing, changing bandages, or dressing their wounds, were in such a deplorable state, as rendered it impossible for us to remain with them long enough to do them any good. Although I had dipped my handkerchief in spirits of camphor, and breathed through it, and was strengthened with a good share of resolution, yet I was forced to retreat. "Convinced that, while the sufferers remained in such charnel-houses as this, breathing air which would be fatal to the life of a healthy person, no medicines would afford relief, we returned to our tent resolved to erect a large temporary shed of boards, broken doors, and timber, in which the wounded might be placed. The remainder of our first day, the 18th, was spent in making preparations for erecting this little hospital. "The next day, the 19th, was a very busy day, and yet our work advanced but slowly. We found the greatest difficulty in getting boards and timber; and when the carpenters came, they were without proper tools. In time, however, we got something in the shape of saws, axes, nails, and mattocks; and as we all laboured hard, before night the result began to appear. The governor visited and greatly praised our work, declaring that he had not thought such a thing could have been erected; and that the government had not been able to obtain so good a place for its own accommodation. Some of the wounded were brought and laid down before us, long before any part of the slight building was ready for their reception. After dark I accompanied the priest to visit the Christian population of Safed. They were never numerous, and having lost about one half of their number, were now crowded into one great tent. Several were wounded to these we gave medicine. Some were orphans, to whom we gave clothing; and the poor people had their necessities supplied, as well as our limited means |