He feared neither the raging elements nor the power of angry enemies.

He had the promise that those who trust in God shall never be moved, and in this strong refuge he was safe.
Not so with poor Hal.

The dread of death had seized him, and absorbed all other thoughts.

He could not but think of the horrors into which he should be plunged if he suddenly found a watery grave.

Prayer seemed impossible for him, as in a kind of agonized waiting he met every plunge and reel of the storm-tossed ship.
Ah, the time of peril is not the best time to make one's peace with God.
When heart and flesh fail, the soul shrinks in dismay before its coming doom.