When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, we hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, and etched on vacant places are half-forgotten faces of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know.
Some want to live within the sound of church or chapel bell; I want to run a rescue shop within a yard of hell. -- C. T. Studd
~~~ Disclaimer
Nothing said here should be understood or construed to be the opinion of anyone but me. My friends, my employer, any organizations I belong to, my church- all are innocent of these thoughts. They are mine.
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