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"No, it's about 'ell," gleefully responded the little boy, who had not yet found all his "h's." Those glowing furnace-bars; those roaring flames ... there could be no doubt whatever about it. A hymn spoke of "Gates of Hell" ... of course they just called it the heating furnace to avoid frightening him. The little boy became acutely conscious of his misdeeds.
Interdependence absolute, foreseen, ordained, decreed, To work, ye'll note, at any tilt an' every rate o' speed. Fra' skylight lift to furnace-bars, backed, bolted, braced an' stayed, An' singin' like the Mornin' Stars for joy that they are made; While, out o' touch o' vanity, the sweatin' thrust-block says: "Not unto us the praise, oh man, not unto us the praise!"
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