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I could tell some sad tales of sorrow that I witnessed when quite a child. Many a time have I clung to my mother, and cried to my drunken father, 'don't kill my mother.' Yes, I think, as I write this, of the days of my childhood, when the praying mother has been down on her knees asking God to help her in her dis tress. My oldest brother was always kind to her. The Lord reward him. But we others were a burden to her night and day. She told her Father in heaven all her sorrows and our sins.…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
I could tell some sad tales of sorrow that I witnessed when quite a child. Many a time have I clung to my mother, and cried to my drunken father, 'don't kill my mother.' Yes, I think, as I write this, of the days of my childhood, when the praying mother has been down on her knees asking God to help her in her dis tress. My oldest brother was always kind to her. The Lord reward him. But we others were a burden to her night and day. She told her Father in heaven all her sorrows and our sins.