act:

No persons bound from New York to Liverpool ever had more cause for
thanksgiving to God than we. The sea so smooth, the ship so staunch, the
companionship so agreeable, all the circumstances so favorable. O Thou who
holdest the winds in Thy fist, blessed be Thy glorious name for ever!

Englishmen, Costa Ricans, Germans, Spaniards, Japanese, Irishmen,
Americans--gathered, never to meet again till the throne of judgment is
lifted--let us join hands to-day around the cross of Jesus and calculate
our prospect for eternity. A few moments ago we all had our sea-glasses up
watching the vessel that went by. "What is her name?" we all asked, and
"Whither is she bound?"

We pass each other on the ocean of life to-day. We only catch a glimpse of
each other. The question is, "Whither are we bound? For harbor of light or
realm of darkness?" As we decide these questions, we decide everything.

No man gets to heaven by accident. If we arrive there, it will be because
we turn the helm, set the sail, watch the compass and stand on the
"lookout" with reference to that destination. There are many ways of being
lost--only one way of being saved; Jesus Christ is the way. He comes
across the sea to-day, His feet on the glass of the wave, as on Galilee,
His arm as strong, His voice as soothing, His heart as warm. Whosoever will
may have His comfort, His pardon, His heaven.

Officers and crew of this ship, have you not often felt the need of divine
help? In the hour of storm and shipwreck, far away from your homes, have
you not called for heavenly rescue? The God who then heard thy prayer will
hear thee now. Risk not your soul in the great future without compass, or
chart, or anchor, or helmsman. You will soon have furled your last sail,
and run up the last ratline, and weathered the last gale, and made the last
voyage. What next? Where then will be your home, who your companions, what
your occupation?

Let us all thank God for this Sabbath which has come to us on the sea. How
beautifully it bridges the Atlantic! It hovers above every barque and brig
and steamer, it speaks of a Jesus risen, a grave conquered, a heaven open.
It is the same old Sabbath that blessed our early days. It is tropical in
its luxuriance, but all its leaves are prayers, and all its blossoms
praise. Sabbath on the sea! How solemn! How suggestive! Let all its hours,
on deck, in cabin, in forecastle, be sacred.

Some of the old tunes that these sailors heard in