"Come!" he said, "the goddess calls you!"--and they climbed the
mountain side,
Up the slopes of Mauna Loa, to the hell of Kilauea,
With the bright blue sky above them, with the blazing sun above them,
While the mountain shook beneath them, and its head was wrapped in
fire.

Fearful, hopeful, all the people crept along the shaking path,
Hardly breathing at their daring, thus to brave dread Pele's wrath,
Bending low lest she should see them, breathing soft lest she should
hear,
Certain that Kapiolani would be sacrificed that day,
To the vengeance of the goddess, to the anger of Pele.

"_As little child
On mother's breast,
O rest, my heart,
Have rest!
Who rests on Him
Is surely blest.
So rest, my heart,
Have rest_!
_As warrior bold
His foes among,
Be strong, my heart,
Be strong!
Who rests on Him
Shall ne'er go wrong.
Be strong, my heart,
Be strong_!"