The Leather Worker's Journal

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United Leather Workers' International Union, 1909
 

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Página 245 - RING out wild bells to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night ; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Página 247 - Speak gently to the aged one, Grieve not the careworn heart ; The sands of life are nearly run, Let such in peace depart.
Página 247 - Speak gently! It is better far To rule by love than fear — Speak gently— let no harsh words mar The good we might do here.
Página 262 - Oh for a tongue to curse the slave, Whose treason, like a deadly blight, Comes o'er the councils of the brave, And blasts them in their hour of might...
Página 32 - So let it be. In God's own might We gird us for the coming fight. And, strong in Him whose cause is ours In conflict with unholy powers, We grasp the weapons He has given, — • The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven.
Página 247 - tis a little thing Dropped in the heart's deep well ; The good, the joy which it may bring Eternity shall tell.
Página 247 - Speak gently to the little child, Its love be sure to gain, Teach it in accents soft and mild, It may not long remain.
Página 245 - Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow : The year is going, let him go ; Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more ; Ring out the feud of rich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife ; Ring in the nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws.
Página 31 - A soldier lay wounded on a hard-fought field, the roar of the battle had died away, and he rested in the deadly stillness of its aftermath. Not a sound was heard as he lay there, sorely smitten and speechless, but the shriek of wounded and...
Página 263 - His country's curse, his children's shame, Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, May he, at last, with lips of flame On the parch'd desert thirsting die, — While lakes that shone in mockery nigh Are fading off, untouch'd.

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