text_original: I was learning to set type, and as I picked the bits of lead from the labeled boxes, there ran the old tune of St. Thomas, carrying through my brain these words: " Tea, tliough I walk in death's dark vale, Yet will I fear none ill."
text_transcription: I WAS LEARNING TO SET TYPE AND AS I PICKED THE BITS OF LEAD FROM THE LABELLED BOXES THERE RAN THE OLD TUNE OF SAINT THOMAS CARRYING THROUGH MY BRAIN THESE WORDS YEA THOUGH I WALK IN DEATH'S DARK VEIL YET WILL I FEAR NONE ILL
phonemes: aɪ wʌz lˈɜːnɪŋ tə sˈɛt tˈaɪp, ænd æz aɪ pˈɪkt ðə bˈɪts ʌv lˈiːd fɹʌmðə lˈeɪbəld bˈɑːksᵻz, ðɛɹ ɹˈæn ðɪ ˈoʊld tˈuːn ʌv sənt. tˈɑːməs, kˈæɹiɪŋ θɹuː maɪ bɹˈeɪn ðiːz wˈɜːdz: " tˈiː, tˈiːlɪˈoʊ aɪ wˈɔːk ɪn dˈɛθz dˈɑːɹk vˈeɪl, jˈɛt wɪl aɪ fˈɪɹ nˈʌn ˈɪl."