...wives! It is not linen you "re wearing out! But human creatures' lives I Stitch — stitch — stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt — Sewing at once, with...hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own Because of the fasts I keep ; O God ! that bread should be so dear,...

...and wives, It is uot linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives ! Stitch, stitch, stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt." " Stop," says a Spitalfields weaver, " God plants truth in the hearts of men, and this is of it." "...

...poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with a double tbread, A sbroud as well as a shirt. " But wby do I talk of Death — That phantom of grisly bone,...hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own Because of the fasts I keep, O, God ! that bread should be so dear,...

...wives ! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives? Stitch — stitch — stitch, In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with...hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own— It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep, Oh ! God ! that bread should be so dear,...

...wives I It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives ! Stitch— stitch— stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing at once, with...But why do I talk of Death ? That phantom of grisly hone, 1 hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own. It Booms so like my own, Because of...

...her hard condition. The case may apply as well to laborers of the other sex, if not even better. " But why do I talk of death. That phantom of grisly...hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts 1 keep, U God ! that bread should be to dear,...

...poverty, hunger an dirt, Sewing at »иге, with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt *). Bat why do I talk of Death ? That Phantom of grisly bone,...hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep, Oh, God ! that bread should be so dear,...

...human creatures' lived! Stitch — stich — stitch. In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sewing nt onre, with a double thread, A Shroud as well as a Shirt. " ' But why do I talk of Death > That phantom of grizly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems fo like my own — It seems so like my own,...

...hunger an dirt, Sewing at once, with a doable thread, Л Shroud as well as a Shirt *). But why do [ talk of Death? That Phantom of grisly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own — It seems so like my own, Because of the fasts I keep, Oh, God ! that bread should be so dear,...

...stitch— stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, Sowing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as welt os a shirt. But why do I talk of Death ? That phantom of grisly hone, 1 hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems но like my own. It seems so like my own. Because...