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260 AN" APPEAL FOR THE "CRIPPLES' HOME."
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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Transcript
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
Another Summer, God Be Praised, Has Bles...
Then let Mm have his little dream , howe'er it lights the globin , For surely morrow ' s sun brings back the garret and the
loom—Yet not for such we ask an alms , though sore must be the need Of those that toil the long , long life and reap such scanty meed— .
For lonelier pathways yet are found , where darker shadows fall , Since some there be , Grod give them aid , that cannot toil at
all—The palsied child that hopeless lies , and crowds the tiny cot , How scant soe'er its home may be , must share that scanty lot .
Its shrivelled hand is cold and dead , and scarce can take the crust Which father ' s toil and mother's moil have won him from the dust—And now his brothers come and goand bring their pence at night
, , They are so proud of what they gain , he too would ' try his might ; But , year by year , the spring comes back and every opening flower
That scents the narrow window-sill , is glorying in its dower—Yet weary limps the winter byand weary goes the spring ,
, To him , that , like the prisoned lark , but feels the broken wing—And so the generous earth goes round , and each man takes his fill ,
But , oh for them that cannot work , yet have earth ' s cravings still!—The cold rude street where rich men pass , and push their busy way ,
"Where idle fashion trips and talks and lives its little day ; Oh I surely such were not the soil to nurse our withered bloom ,
For kinder were the clasping sod and qiiiet of the tomb !—That < dainty glance that dares not meet the sordid things of woe ,
Has little , save the beggar ' s brand , on homeless want to throw—And if the kindlier heart should stir , and fain would give with glee ,
There ' s many a noisy snare abroad to wrest the cripple ' s fee ; Then , oh ! to shield such lonely souls to find a haven still ,
Where e ' en the shattered barks of life may nestle if they will ; Some fold amid the cruel world , where healing waters play
To bathe the wounded lambs , that else must perish by the way—For such we plead , and even now our little port in sight ,
There's many a crazy raft in view that hails the harbour-light ; Our fold is full , yet far and near , comes up from east and west
The bleating of the weary ones , that long to find a rest—Then come all ye that count with pride your garners full of grain ,
A few spare ears is all we ask , and would not ask in vain—And if our great _G-od bless your store , and fill your paths with flowers
, Think not that life will sparkle less , for sometime meeting showers'Tis out of gloom we love the light , 'tis sunshine follows rain ,
And he that gives to others' need himself hath made a gain—Then Christ be with usone and allfor He alone at length
, , Can give the crippled heart its balm , and every weak one strength . Alsager Hay Hill .
m *
260 An" Appeal For The "Cripples' Home."
260 AN" APPEAL FOR THE " CRIPPLES' HOME . "
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Citation
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English Woman’s Journal (1858-1864), Dec. 1, 1862, page 260, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/ewj/issues/ewj_01121862/page/44/
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