. Book of song poems. ou shall see as you passThe punishment dire of a still meaner palace on the left is the fiery abodeOf a class who by thousands have trod the broad are hireling watchmen who strive to increaseThe size of the fiock for the sake of the fleece;No care had they at all for the men of their charge,D umb dogs were they all while the wolf ran at large:They are speakers of all classes,divisions and names,Condemned to be boiled in the sulphureous the meanest by far of these miserable factors of hell, the intemperance speakers:They say
. Book of song poems. ou shall see as you passThe punishment dire of a still meaner palace on the left is the fiery abodeOf a class who by thousands have trod the broad are hireling watchmen who strive to increaseThe size of the fiock for the sake of the fleece;No care had they at all for the men of their charge,D umb dogs were they all while the wolf ran at large:They are speakers of all classes,divisions and names,Condemned to be boiled in the sulphureous the meanest by far of these miserable factors of hell, the intemperance speakers:They say that wine was made for mens strengthAnd that all good men of the Bible had wine to are a necessity—they make it so deny it is taking the Lords name in vain;But here a new light on their vision is one else besides wine and beer drinkers are cursed:Just a few steps ahead TU show you their stationWho with the whisky ring would ruin the now as we stood oer a precipice dire, 1S3. ^ ak. o w be ^ o 3 S-l- CO (-1 0^ ft ® p. A 1—I -rt •>-H 1-5 Ph ^® •r-t X2 J CD 1! H 4J ^ f1 ?r-i (D CD Pi T3 H a ou cd cc 03 >. Oi ;h n !? ^ cd a> hft- m 4^ fl 03 crt , u rl a 03 X5 CO ^ p 03 OP a ^^ 0 0) «H J « N w We saw far beneath a great lake of fire. Like a sea in a tempest the surface was tossed, While it gleamed with the pale ghosts of the lost; Rock bound on all sides the deep hollows roar, The surges resound while lashing the shore; The blackness of darkness, a sulphureous cloud Hung over the scene like a funeral shroud. Yet plain was it seen the red waves were at play Lashing the crags and throwing back their spray; Each wave as it rose displayed on its crest Some dozen pale ghosts there riding abreast, Till striking the crags they sank from sight And others rolled up on billows of light. **Tis here, quoth the devil, we the rumsellers throwWhen they come down and call for their lodging they never lo
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