Prisons and Prayer Part 72

If I had not been previously convinced by the Scriptures of the folly of wearing rings I think this awful sight would have been sufficient to satisfy any doubts in my mind, as they cut so cruelly deep into the charred and swollen flesh. She finally pa.s.sed away to that land where there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.

While being entertained at a certain place a few years ago, a caller was announced one evening, to see "Mother Wheaton." Entering the parlor a tall, handsome man, dressed in the uniform of a policeman, advanced to greet me. I bowed politely, but perhaps a little distantly, as I did not know him. He came forward and extended his hand cordially, saying, "Don't you know me, Mother?" I said, "No, I do not know you." He said "I sang in ----prison in the choir. I served a term there and heard you sing and preach there. This is my daughter,"

and he presented a nice looking young lady who was with him. He said he now held a responsible position and was getting along nicely, and invited me to come and visit his family.

While holding meetings in a little town in one of the southern states, I was entertained at the home of a wealthy man who was accused of crime. He had a beautiful wife and lovely children. I was greatly troubled about his condition. I held meetings there in the home. I was treated very kindly and cordially welcomed, but he would not yield to G.o.d. I warned him faithfully, and plead with him to repent of his sins and become a Christian. I told him that a terrible calamity awaited him if he did not yield himself to the Lord. I went away believing it was his last chance of salvation. Not long after that he laid in wait to kill a man against whom he had had a grudge for some time; but the other man seeing his intention, drew his revolver and fired in self-defence. The man fell dead. He had had his last call. He had rejected the Lord and was ushered into eternity without a moment's warning.

One day years ago, in M----, Mississippi, I went on the street to hold a meeting. A policeman came along and forbade me after I had begun to sing, saying it was against the law to hold religious services on the street. My spirit was grieved as I felt the Lord had a work for me to do among the poor and lowly who were too poorly clad to attend church services. A sister (a woman of G.o.d who entertained me) was with me.

She then proposed taking me to see a sick child, an infant. When we reached the house we found the young parents weeping over their dying child. My heart was touched with sympathy, and kneeling down I asked Him who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me," to heal the child for His glory. I believed His word where it says, "The prayer of faith shall save the sick." My faith touched divinity, the child was healed and the young parents, seeing the power of G.o.d manifested, were converted, and gave their lives to G.o.d for His service.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Height Out Arms Trunk Head Length Head Width Cheek Width Ear Foot Length Finger L. Fore-arm Color of Eyes Marks & Scars

BERTILLON MEASUREMENTS]

[Ill.u.s.tration: PRISON AT ANAMOSA, IOWA. 1. FEMALE DEPARTMENT. 2. CELL HOUSE. 3. MAIN ENTRANCE.]

CHAPTER XXVI.

Selections from My Sc.r.a.p Book.

Many of the selections given in this chapter were written by prisoners and given me by them. The others may not all be new to the reader, but I have thought them of sufficient value to thus preserve, as they may be reread with profit, and no doubt may be read here by many who have not seen them elsewhere. Such will surely feel the time it takes to read them well spent.

Many of the songs I have sung are not in print here, as they are familiar or may be found in popular books; others I thought might be copyrighted and I do not know the owner, etc. I have not meant to use any copyright selections without procuring the right to do so, but if through mistake any have been used I shall be glad to make due requital.

THE AUTHOR OF FLOWER MISSION DAY.

I once visited this sister, a saint, meekly lying upon her bed, and when I asked if she would like for Jesus to heal her, she said G.o.d could use her better in that condition.

E. R. W.

Jennie Ca.s.sady was born in Louisville, Kentucky, June 9, 1840.

She came to earth through no royal line of ancestry. No booming cannon and flying flags proclaimed the birth of a princess. No jeweled hand beckoned her to a place of rank and t.i.tle. Nothing in babyhood or girlhood distinguished her above what is visible in ten thousand homes to-day. But as she stepped over the threshold into womanhood, there fell upon her a great calamity--a cruel accident made her a cripple and an invalid for life. But in her afflictions she arose to a sublimity and sweetness of soul that has challenged the admiration of two continents. And out of the awful shadows that fell upon her she has gathered up the sunbeams of G.o.d's smiles and scattered them into the dark places of earth. Out of that one little darkened room in Kentucky there has gone forth an inspiration that has fired the heart of heroic Christian womanhood. And out of the darkness that smote her pathway leaped the lances of light that pierces the gloom of prison walls. A gleam from that radiant life touches the poet's fancy, and gives us these beautiful lines.

J. M. CROCKER, Prison Chaplain.

FLOWER DAY AT THE PRISON.

Composed and read by F. L. Platt at the Iowa State Prison at Anamosa, June 9th, 1894.

In a cottage in Kentucky, In the years that have gone by, Was a woman, oh, so lonely, She'd been given up to die.

As she lay upon her sick bed, Ere the spark of life had flown, Neighbors called, and strangers also, Whom before she had not known.

They had heard of her misfortune, Day and night she lingered there; And to make her life more cheerful Seemed to be their every care.

Now they come, with noiseless footsteps, As the rose is kissed with dew, Each one bringing in some suns.h.i.+ne, In "these flowers I've brought for you."

As she looked into their faces, Realizing death had come, "Take these flowers," she said, "I'm dying,"

They will brighten other homes.

Take them, give them to the children Who in orphans' homes are found, Who have parents silent sleeping Underneath some gra.s.sy mound.

Take them, place them by the bedside Of some one whose life is drear; They will bring a ray of suns.h.i.+ne, They will drive away a tear.

Take them, bear them to the prison, Where the trembling convict stands; They'll encourage and they'll cheer him, And they'll help him be a man.

They will speak to him of Heaven, Of a home with G.o.d above; They'll dispel the gloom and heartache, They'll recall a mother's love.

They'll remind him of a sister, With youth's bloom upon her brow, With whom he used to gather flowers When life was bright as yours is now.

They'll recall some little sweetheart In the early spring of life, Who, when summer flowers were blooming, He had asked to be his wife.

Oh, that wife! may G.o.d's own blessing Rest upon her loyal head; Though he's caused her many a heartache, She would love him were he dead.

Then with all these sacred memories Welling in these hearts of ours, Who in all this land of suns.h.i.+ne Could forbid this gift of flowers?

Bring the flowers with sweetest perfume, This is flower mission day; Some forlorn, discouraged prisoner, "You may rescue, you may save."

Blest the home that knows no sorrow, Blest that wife, whose tears are joy, Blest that mother who in old age, Can lean upon her darling boy.

Men, look up, the clouds have gathered, Some of them are silver-lined; There's a day when all creation Will be marshalled into line.

When these prison walls are sundered; When the grave gives up its dead, All may march the streets of Heaven Who by Jesus Christ are led.

LINES BY A PRISONER TO HIS WIFE.

These lines were handed me by the author. I insert them here because of their clear testimony to the saving grace of G.o.d and the love they manifest for wife and children:

Dearest wife, you know I love thee, Deep as yonder sky; Know that love can never fade, Affection never die.

Though in prison I am cast, And cannot now return, Yet on thee my love reclines, For thee my heart will burn.

G.o.d has made us one indeed, In ways the world can never know.

One, like drops of water found Within the pure white snow.

G.o.d has made us one indeed; Has joined us, hand and heart; What G.o.d has joined together, wife, Let no man put apart.