You remember the kiss and the last words_Prisons and Prayer; Or, a Labor of Love

The arms that embraced you are mouldering away;

As you stood by her grave and dropped tears on her coffin,

With a vow that you'd meet her, you walked slowly away.

My brother, my sister, get ready to meet her,

The life that you now live is ebbing away,

But the life that's to come lasts forever and ever,

May we meet ne'er to part on that great judgment day!

MY NAME IN MOTHER'S PRAYER.

'Twas in the days of careless youth

When life seemed fair and bright,

When ne'er a tear, nor scarce a fear

O'er cast my day or night.

'Twas in the quiet even tide,

I passed her kneeling there,

When just one word I tho't I heard

My name, my name in mother's prayer.

CHORUS.

My name, my name in mother's prayer,

My name in mother's prayer!

There is just one word I tho't I heard

My name, my name in mother's prayer.

I wandered on, but heeded not

God's oft repeated call,

To turn from sin and live for Him,

And trust to Him my all in all.

But when at last convinced of sin,

I sank in deep despair,

My soul awoke when memory spoke

My name, my name in mother's prayer.

That kneeling form, those folded hands,

Have vanished in the dust;

But still for me for years shall be

The memory of her trust.

And when I cross dark Jordan's tide,

I'll meet her over there;

I'll praise the Lord, and bless the word,

That word, my name in mother's prayer!

OVER THERE.

Come all ye scattered race,

And the Savior's love embrace;

You may see His smiling face

Yet with care;

He is on the giving hand,

Will you come at His command,

Will you with the angels stand

Over there?

CHORUS.

Over there, over there,

There's a land of pure delight

Over there,

We will lay our burdens down,

And at Jesus' feet sit down,

And we'll wear a starry crown,

Over there.

Yes, He went to Calvary,

And they nailed Him to the tree,

That poor sinners such as we,

He might spare;

From the bitter pangs of death,

He does with His dying breath,

Seal an everlasting rest,

Over there.

God has placed us on the field,

To the foe we will not yield,

On our tower we will stand,

By His care.

Wave the Christian's banner high,

Hold it up until we die,

And go home to live with God,

Over there.

THIS WAY.

Our life is like a stormy sea,

Swept by the gales of sin and grief,

While on the windward and the lee,

Hangs heavy clouds of unbelief;

Out o'er the deep a call we hear,

Like harbor bell's inviting voice;

It tells the lost that hope is near,

And bids the trembling soul rejoice.

CHORUS.

This way, this way, O heart oppressed,

So long by storm and tempest driven,

This way, this way, lo here is rest,

Rings out the harbor bell of heaven.

O tempted one, look up, be strong;

The promise of the Lord is sure,

That they shall sing the victor's song,

Who faithful to the end endure;

God's Holy Spirit comes to thee,

Of this abiding love to tell;

To blissful port, o'er stormy sea,

Calls heaven's inviting harbor bell.

MORE TO BE PITIED THAN CENSURED.

There's an old concert hall on the bowery

Where were assembled together one night

A crowd of young fellows carousing,

To them life looked happy and bright.

At the very next table was seated

A girl that had fallen to shame;

How the fellows they laughed at her downfall,

When they heard an old woman exclaim:

CHORUS.

"She's more to be pitied than censured,

She is more to be loved than despised;

She is only a poor girl who ventured

On life's rugged path ill-advised.

Don't scorn her with words fierce and bitter,

Don't laugh at her shame and downfall,

Just pause for a moment--consider,

That sin was the cause of it all."

There's an old-fashioned church 'round the corner,

Where the neighbors all gathered one day,

To listen to words from the parson,

For a soul that had just passed away.

'Twas the same wayward girl from the bowery,

Who a life of adventure had led;

Did the parson then laugh at her downfall?

No, he prayed and wept as he said:

SOME MOTHER'S CHILD.

At home or away, in the alley or street,

Wherever I chance in this wide world to meet

A girl that is thoughtless or a boy that is wild,

My heart echoes softly: It is some mother's child.

CHORUS.

Some mother's child,

My heart echoes softly:

It is some mother's child.

And when I see those o'er whom long years have rolled,

Whose hearts have grown hardened, whose spirits are cold;

Be it woman all fallen, or man all defiled,

A voice whispers sadly: It is some mother's child.

No matter how far from right she hath strayed;

No matter what inroad dishonor hath made;

No matter what elements cankered the pearl;

Though tarnished and sullied, she is some mother's girl.

No matter how deep he is sunken in sin;

No matter how much he is shunned by his kin;

No matter how low is his standard of joy;

Though guilty and loathsome; he is some mother's boy.

That head hath been pillowed on tenderest breast;

That form hath been wept o'er, those lips have been pressed;

That soul hath been prayed for in tones sweet and mild;

For her sake deal gently with some mother's child.

_Used by permission of Charlie D. Tillman, owner of copyright._

JUST TELL MY MOTHER.

'Twas in a Gospel Mission, in a distant western town,

The meeting there that night had just begun,

When in came a poor lost sinner who by sin had been cast down,

Thinking perhaps that he might have some fun;

But as he heard of Jesus' love, of pardon full and free,

He sought it and the wanderer ceased to roam.

And going to his room that night, his heart all filled with joy,

He wrote a letter to the folks at home.

CHORUS.

Just tell my dear old mother, my wandering days are o'er,

Just tell her that my sins are all forgiven,

Just tell her that if on earth we chance to meet no more,

Her prayers are answered and we'll meet in Heaven.

His mother got the message as she lay at death's dark door,

Which told her of her boy so far away,

How his sins were all forgiven and wandering days were o'er,

And that his feet were on the narrow way.

Her heart was filled with gladness, as it had not been for years,

Her dear old face was all lit up with joy,

As on her dying pillow she said amid her tears,

God bless and keep my precious darling boy.

Your mothers have prayed for you, my friends, for many and many a day,

Perhaps these days of life will soon be o'er,

Come, give your hearts to Jesus, get on the narrow way,

And meet her on that happy golden shore.

Oh, come just now while still there's room, and pardon free for all.

The Savior pleads, oh, do not longer roam.

And then with Jesus in your heart, you will send the message

To your dear mother, praying still for you at home.

SOON THE DEATH-BELL WILL TOLL.

When the last Gospel message has been told in your ears,

And the last solemn warning has been given you in tears;

When hope shall escape from its place in your breast,

Oh, where will your poor weary soul find its rest?

CHORUS.

Soon the death-bell will toll--look after your soul;

O, sinner be ready, for the death-bell will toll.

When the darkness of death shall compass you round,

When the friends you have loved are all standing around;

Unable to save you now from the tomb,

Unable to alter your terrible doom.

When before the white throne of His Judgment you stand,

"What have you to answer?" the Judge will demand;

Oh, terrible moment to be standing alone,

When mercy forever and forever is gone.

THE END OF THE WAY.

The following beautiful lines were written by a girl in Nova Scotia,

an invalid for many years:

My life is a wearisome journey;

I'm sick of the dust and the heat;

The rays of the sun beat upon me,

The briars are wounding my feet.

But the city to which I am journeying

Will more than my trials repay;

All the toils of the road will seem nothing

When I get to the end of the way.

There are so many hills to climb upward,

I often am longing for rest,

But He who appoints me the pathway

Knows what is needed and best.

I know in His word He has promised

That my strength shall be as my day;

And the toils of the road will seem nothing

When I get to the end of the way.

He loves me too well to forsake me,

Or give me one trial too much;

All His people have been dearly purchased,

And Satan can never claim such.

By and by I shall see Him and praise Him,

In the city of unending day;

And the toils of the road will seem nothing

When I get to the end of the way.

When the last feeble steps have been taken,

And the gates of the city appear,

And the beautiful songs of the angels

Float out on my listening ear;

When all that now seems so mysterious

Will be plain and clear as the day--

Yes, the toils of the road will seem nothing

When I get to the end of the way.

Though now I am footsore and weary,

I shall rest when I'm safely at home;

I know I'll receive a glad welcome,

For the Savior Himself has said "Come."

So, when I am weary in body,

And sinking in spirit I say,

All the toils of the road will seem nothing

When I get to the end of the way.

Cooling fountains are there for the thirsty,

There are cordials for those who are faint:

There are robes that are whiter and purer

Than any that fancy can paint.

Then I'll try to press hopefully onward,

Thinking often through each weary day,

The toils of the road will seem nothing

When I get to the end of the way.

Appendix.

The matter which I have here appended I thought of too much value to

omit from this volume. The first article is explanatory in itself. The

second is by a prisoner whom I have known for many years. The third

(regarding Christ in Gethsemane) was written by a prisoner as a letter

to myself. I hope the reader may profit by the reading of each page.

E. R. W.

THE PERSONNEL OF PRISON MANAGEMENT.

Address of C. E. Haddox, warden of the West Virginia

penitentiary, to the National Prison Association, at its annual

session, Louisville, Ky., Congress of 1903:

This is the age of industrial development. On every side we see

colossal enterprises undertaken and prosecuted to a successful and

profitable conclusion.

Great railroad systems span the continent, carrying millions of

passengers and countless tons of freight, with safety, celerity and

dispatch, to the doors of factory, workshop, store and consumer.

Immense industrial enterprises are constantly being projected,

consolidated and carried on in a manner to excite the admiration,

mayhap, the wonder and fear of mankind.

Colossal financial transactions amaze the minds of those uninitiated

to the magnitude and the intricacies of such undertakings.

The unexplored recesses of the earth are exploited in a manner and on

a scale heretofore undreamed of and unknown, and every department of

enterprise is carried on to a degree that distinctly stamps this

decade as the acme of industrial enterprise and achievements, the

golden age of industrial prosperity, and the acquirement of material

improvement and material gain.

If it be asked why such strides have been made along industrial lines,

the answer is that it is due to ORGANIZATION AND SPECIALIZATION.

The PERSONNEL of the management have devoted their lives, their talent

and their energies to the special work before them. They have been

drilled and educated along special lines; they have been deaf and

blind to outside matters not relevant to the work in hand, and by

close and careful study, by unceasing and constant labor, care and

effort, having evolved, projected and carried on these immense

enterprises.

The National Prison Congress at its meeting this year is mindful of

the material progress of the country.

This association is equally ambitious along the lines peculiar to

itself to obtain from the various penal institutions of the country

the highest and best results morally, educationally, reformatively,

and as an incident, punitively and financially.

How shall we keep pace in penal improvements with the great material

progress of the outside world?

The answer necessarily must be, that improvements in our department of

work must come, as they do elsewhere, by the investigation, the study,

the thought and the effort of those who are in actual control, of

those who are in a position to see, to observe and to know.

In other words, the question as to whether prisons are to improve,

whether their work shall continue to be of a higher and nobler

character, whether we are finally and forever to break away from the

customs of the galleys of France, the prisons of Hawes in England, of

the Mamertine of Rome and of Rothenburg in Germany, will depend

utterly, entirely and absolutely upon the personnel of the prison

management of the country.

Prof. Henderson, in his admirable address delivered at the

Philadelphia meeting in 1902, on "The Social Position of the Prison

Warden," says: "Some institutions have no marked qualities; they have

walls, cells, machinery, prisoners, punishments, but no distinct,

consistent and rational policy."

Where this is true it means that the worst possible condition of

affairs exists. Such an institution has the dry rot. It is managed (or

rather mismanaged) by time servers, too careless to feel the high

responsibility devolving upon them, and too listless to acquaint

themselves with the many opportunities spread before them to improve

and keep pace with the onward march of progress.

Such officers in their abuse, by inaction, of the opportunities

afforded them, commit "Crimes against criminals" and through them

against society.

On the contrary institutions which have distinct features and

characteristics, have them as the result of the careful investigation,

the patient research and thought of those who are in responsible and

actual control, and these characteristics and features reflect the

wisdom and intelligence of those who have given their energies and

their lives to the special work before them.

THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

In the management of penal institutions a Board of Directors or of

Control is, ordinarily, the nominal head.

By the laws of most states they are supposed to fix the administration

policy, to restrict and define the powers and duties of the officers

in actual and intimate control.

In some institutions they meet a day or so each month, in most

institutions not so frequently. Their duties while at the institution

may or may not be largely perfunctory, and as they are generally

active business men at home in other channels, the day or two a month

or quarter is apt to be regarded by the unthoughtful as a respite or

surcease from other duties. The main duty of a Board of Directors or

of Control may be said to be the determining of the general policy

upon which the institution shall be conducted, and a cursory oversight

of the conduct of its affairs.

THE WARDEN.

The warden or superintendent is the one official who can give tone,

expression and color to the institution. He is distinctly and

positively its actual managing head, and upon his intelligence,

interest, zeal, tact and discretion will depend, almost entirely, its

weal or its woe.

He must be a man of intelligence, and be willing and anxious to

increase his fund of knowledge and information.

He should be a profound student not only of the ordinary subjects that

attract the student, but of prison systems, of laws, business,

government, society as it exists, and of human nature in all its many

phases.

HE MUST BE AN ORGANIZER.

No difference how elaborate a system may be found in any institution

of this kind, the warden will always be an intensely busy and greatly

occupied officer.

If he would prevent chaos and confusion and obtain from every official

the highest and best work of which he is capable, he must organize

every department thoroughly. Every officer and every inmate must know

his exact duties, so far as it is possible to know them, and be made

responsible for those duties and the warden must be enabled to

appreciate a high order of talent and the accomplishment of good work,

and to locate the blame for omissions and short comings, and provide

for their correction.

Thorough system in every detail will conserve the capacities of all

his subordinates and leave him in a measure free to observe the actual

conditions and to plan and to put into effect improvements along

moral, industrial, physical and financial lines.

HE MUST BE A FINANCIER.

The financial question in every prison in the land is an extremely

important one. Funds for prisons are doled out grudgingly, and the

demand for absolutely necessary purposes is always far greater than

the supply.

A warden performs no more important function than when he sees that

the funds of the institution are so used as to effect the highest

possible results, and that all the forces of the prison are so

energized and conserved as to permit, under ordinary conditions, a

satisfactory and proper earning and economizing power. With the many

demands made upon him for means for increasing the usefulness of his

institution, a high order of financial aptitude is an absolutely

necessary characteristic in a successful warden.

DISCIPLINE.

Discipline in a prison is its first requisite. Nothing can be

accomplished until officers and convicts are under its sway and

control.

The warden who would have control of those under him must himself at

all times, be under self control.

The maxim "No one knows how to command who has not first learned how

to obey," is a trite and a true one. The population of a prison is

made up of a heterogeneous collection of people whose first instincts

have been and are, not to obey.

To bring such people into habits of obedience and control requires the

highest type of skill, tact and discretion. Punishments and reward

must be so blended and combined as to effect the needful results with

the least possible friction, and in the most humane and rational

manner possible.

No warden can afford to delegate the matter of enforcing discipline

entirely or partly, if at all, to another. His first duty to himself,

that he may know actual conditions as they exist, is to preside over

or assist in, the trial of offenders and to order discipline.

Individual treatment is a necessity in our dealings with delinquents,

and a study of the many phases of delinquency is a prime requisite in

a successful warden's repertoire.

Brainard F. Smith says: "Many a prisoner has been reformed--or, if not

reformed, made a better prisoner--by punishment."

Will the warden have any higher duty to perform than to face his

delinquent delinquents and to order in merciful severity, rational

punishments for their short-comings?

But a warden's disciplinary powers are apt to be taxed more severely

in another direction. The great problem ordinarily, is not so much the

discipline of convicts as that of subordinate officers. If subordinate

officers will obey the spirit and the letter of the rules, the convict

has the potential influence of a powerful example to aid him. "Like

master like man."

In institutions where officers are appointed solely with reference to

their fitness, comparatively little trouble should be had in the

matter of proper official discipline. But where places are given to

heelers, ward-workers and political strikers, the matter of efficient

discipline is a question of grave concern to the warden. In the

absence of better material, however, he must address himself to

organizing what he has to the highest efficiency possible, and insist

and require a rigid regimen and adhere to his demands and requirements

with Spartan firmness.

THE PRISON SCHOOL.

The educational work of a prison is of the highest, I may say, of the

first importance. The education of the hands to work comes naturally,

partly as an incident of the necessary work carried on in prison.

Nearly all convicts are densely ignorant. The polished, scholarly,

shrewd criminal of whom we hear so much, and to whom the papers and

books give so much prominence, is the exception, not the rule, in

prison.

If the prison is to have a reformatory feature, it must come very

largely through the school. Many prison schools are such only in name.

The work accomplished is very meager. The results are very

unsatisfactory.

To no part of prison work should a warden address himself with more

ardor and determination than so to organize the prison school as to

make it the great positive factor in dispelling ignorance and its

attendant viciousness, and in quickening and enlivening the moral

sense in those whose moral judgment is exceedingly obtuse.

The course of study in a prison school is necessarily a very

elementary one, and unless followed by a supplementary course of

reading and study, will be of little permanent and practical benefit.

Many prison libraries, largely the result of indiscriminate and

heterogeneous donations of all kinds of literature, good, bad and

indifferent, chiefly the latter, are not in a position to be a

positive force.

Let the warden see that his library is so arranged, classified and

used as to be a source of information, profit, help and pleasure to

the inmates, and that a course of reading along rational lines is

laid out, encouraged, and, if possible, adhered to, in order that the

preliminary school course may not have been in vain.

COURAGE NEEDED.

The warden must be a man of courage. I do not refer to the kind of

courage necessary to face a regiment of depraved and wicked men shorn

of their power and their stimulus to do evil, but that high moral

courage necessary to clean the Augean stables of abuses of customs, to

reverse policies of long standing that are nevertheless wrong in

principle and in practice, to fight against unjust, improper and

unwise legislative propositions concerning his institution; the kind

of courage that prompted the chaplain in Chas. Reade's "NEVER TOO LATE

TO MEND," to fight and destroy the iniquitous prison system of Keeper

Hawes and his minions; the courage that will keep to the fore-front a

persistent opposition to prostituting penitentiaries into eleemosynary

institutions and political cribs and feeding troughs for political

strikers.

He must have the courage to weed out and eliminate useless barnacles

in the shape of incompetent and worthless employes, and substitute in

their stead men of capacity, character and intelligence, who are in

love with their work and believe in its dignity and usefulness; the

courage to face demagogues in their efforts to take from the prison

its educative, moral, reformatory and economic force, the right of the

unfortunate inmates to learn the gospel of labor under right and just

conditions.

OPTIMISM NECESSARY.

The warden needs to be intensely optimistic. He must have a reserve

fund of enthusiasm. He must believe profoundly in the high character

of his office and educate others constantly to believe in it. The

ignorance of the great mass of the people as to the real function of

penitentiaries and the methods by which they are carried on is amazing

and mortifying to prison officials.

A part of the warden's mission is to acquaint the outside world with

conditions as they exist inside, and to inspire the interest and

support of the general public in measures for bettering and improving

prison conditions. Legislative bodies especially, need to be brought

into closer relations and the law makers made to realize their duty to

the public and the convict in the enactment of wise, proper and

righteous legislation.

Longfellow, in his beautiful poem, "THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP," tells

why the master builder achieved success. It was because

"His heart was in the work and the heart

Giveth grace to every art."

The warden's heart must be in his work. His whole soul must be

animated and permeated with an honest and sincere desire to bring

penology up to a higher and nobler standard.

He must have a reserve force of enthusiasm that will not be daunted

and destroyed by temporary failures or the lapses of some discharged

or pardoned convicts, who, in spite of care and pains, will return to

their evil ways. The enthusiasm that can bear the harsh and ignorant

criticism and misrepresentations incident to his work; the enthusiasm

that in its contagion will inoculate directors, subordinate officers,

the press and the people with a desire for more light on penal

problems and a purpose to be governed by that light; the enthusiasm

that will beget great patience for the exacting, difficult and trying

problems before him; that will make him believe that "a convict saved

is a man made"; that will make him believe with the great English

novelist "It is never too late to mend," and that as infinite care and

pains finally brought Robinson, the twice convicted thief, up to the

estate of honest manhood, so, infinite care and pains should be

exerted with every man under his charge.

Pessimism has no rightful place in a penitentiary. In the language of

Socrates, "Why should we who are never angry at an ill-conditioned

body, always be angry with an ill-conditioned soul?"

The ignorant Hawes believed in the profitless crank, the black-hole,

the deprivation of food, of bed, of clothing, the tortures of the

waist jacket and the collar, and a sign over the door, "ABANDON HOPE

ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE."

The twentieth century warden believes in the gospel of productive

labor, of education of hand, head and heart, in the deprivation of

privileges, largely as punishment, the segregation of the desperate

and nearly hopeless, the enlightenment of an all-powerful, all

potential, all influential example and the motto of Pope Clement, "It

is of little advantage to restrain criminals by punishment unless you

reform them with training and teaching."

THE CHAPLAIN.

The chaplain occupies an extremely important but delicate position in

prison management. It is possible for him to be of vast influence and

power for good.

The chaplain needs to be a man of large heart, aided by an abundance

of sound common sense. He needs to bear in mind constantly, in the

difficult and delicate work he is called upon to perform, that the

discipline of the prison must be upheld and enforced.

Associate officers are frequently disturbed with the fear that the

chaplain's influence will subvert the discipline of the prison; that

the shrewd, unprincipled convicts by pouring into his ears their

imaginary tales of woe, may succeed in working him.

The chaplain's first requirement, if he would succeed, is not to lose

sight of the majesty of the law and of the prison rules.

The chaplain and the warden should go hand in hand, the one sustaining

the other. They need to have a perfect understanding, neither

mistrusting the other. Frequent conferences ought to enable them to

proceed along proper lines. The chaplain's opportunities are

limitless. I do not undertake to say what direction his duties shall

take him. That will be discussed fully in the Chaplain's Association.

It is personal, individual work that counts in a prison. All the

chaplain's work should be thought out beforehand, be methodical,

premeditated, intentional, systematic and thorough. His chapel service

should be rational, of the proper length, with exercises, song service

and preaching service carefully chosen. There should be no room in a

prison service for the spectacular, the highly emotional and the

haphazard sermons and addresses of a chance visitor. A reasonably

rigid censorship ought to be exercised over the contributions of

outsiders to the chapel service.

The influence of sight seers and idle visitors to prisons, always bad,

reaches the acme of its perniciousness in the chapel service, if

unrestrained and unguided by prison officials of experience and

firmness, who alone are in a position to know that sickly

sentimentality is the worst possible pabulum to offer men already too

eager to justify their evil deeds.

THE PHYSICIAN.

A physician's duties in a prison are necessarily onerous, important

and difficult. Convicts are constantly claiming that they are unable

physically to do the work assigned them. No one can determine the

truthfulness of their statements except the physician, and to

determine whether the convict is really ill or exercising his usual

finesse to shirk his duties, requires keen judgment of human nature as

well as an accurate knowledge of his profession.

The convict, housed and hemmed in, is peculiarly susceptible to

hallucinations and to thinking that he is afflicted with imaginary

ills.

A physician needs a large fund of good judgment, will-power and common

sense to combat successfully with this class of people. How far he

should use some of the subterfuges supposed to be employed by

physicians in the outside world in dealing with people afflicted with

hypochondria, I am unable to say, but a certain amount of cheerfulness

coupled with firmness is undoubtedly of great value.

SUBORDINATE OFFICERS.

The subordinate officers of a prison are very important factors in the

management of a prison. They come in actual, continual, personal

contact with the men.

No difference how capable and zealous may be the warden and his

deputy, unless they have men of character, zeal, intelligence and

discretion to carry out their orders and wishes faithfully and well,

all their plans will come to naught.

Guards, keepers and watchmen should be of good moral character. It is

useless to talk about reforming convicts unless they have continually

the benefit of good examples set before them. Precept amounts to

nothing unless re-enforced by good examples.

They should be educated and intelligent.

Their duties are largely discretionary, and in their contact with

convicts a high order of intelligence is necessary to know the right

thing to do. Strict integrity and truthfulness are prime requisites.

An officer's word should be beyond question and he should be

absolutely impartial in his dealings with his men.

No special system will bring the highest results with any kind of men

behind it. Any system with men of character, conscience and capacity

will achieve great good. Any system with men of bad character,

ignorant, careless and indifferent, will fall to the ground.

A common impression prevails that any one is good enough for a prison

guard, and if he is too old, too feeble and decrepit or too lazy for

other work, his political strikers will try to unload him on the

penitentiary authorities.

Prison Directors, Wardens and all in authority should set their faces

resolutely against this erroneous and terribly harmful idea. Partisan

politics should not be a factor in the appointment or the retention of

any prison officer. All subordinates should be appointed under civil

service rules and be required to pass a civil service examination, and

after entering upon his duties be required to take up a course of

study on penological questions and problems and be otherwise carefully

schooled and drilled along the lines of their work. If time

demonstrates their unfitness for the position they should be summarily

removed. If they manifest an aptitude and an interest in their work

they should be encouraged, promoted and protected against removal for

partisan reasons.

Whenever directors in banks are elected with reference to their

political proclivities and not with reference to their business

sagacity, it will be proper to select prison officials for the same

reason.

Whenever great business firms discharge their managers because their

political views do not coincide with those of the owners, then and not

till then should prison officials step down and out for political

reasons.

What would be thought of directors of a business enterprise or the

regents of a university who selected their business manager, their

teachers, with regard to their views on finance or on the tariff, or

who would remove a faithful, efficient and capable servant after years

of experience in his work, merely because he did not coincide with the

political views of the majority of his directors in a matter in no way

germane to his work?

As Boards of Directors spend but a small percentage of their time at

the institutions they control, it necessarily takes them years to get

a clear insight into all the details of its work, and to make a change

just when, through the process of time, the director becomes fitted

for his work, is the height of unwisdom and folly. Boards of Charity

and Correction having charge of all the institutions in the State

would certainly be much more desirable. Such officers could devote

their entire time and attention to the work, and thus be able to give

all the institutions of the State uniform treatment and attention.

Boards of Directors or of Control should be appointed and reappointed

as long as they are efficient and manifest an interest in the work.

And so with all other officers from the warden down, and each should

feel and know that faithfulness and efficiency is the only standard,

and that they would not be expected, required or permitted to weaken

their influence or their energies by undue or active participations in

political effort or political manipulations.

The surest sign of unfitness for prison work and lack of interest in

the work is an undue activity in political caucuses and conventions.

The official practically advertises that he cannot hope to hold his

place on account of his efficiency, but expects to do so because of

his services as a political henchman.

THE DEMANDS OF THE AGE.

As this age demands a high order of talent and effort in the

industrial, so it should demand and require great ability and power in

the penal world.

The third of a century of the life of the National Prison Congress has

witnessed great progress in the domain over which it has advisory

power. Many problems pressing for solution demand the highest

functions of those in control.

Do punishments deter men from crime?

Do the universal customs of the times foster and beget much of the

crime committed?

Does war beget murder elsewhere?

Is social vengeance a failure, and are other means necessary to

prevent crime?

Should not executives now clothed with power to terminate or shorten

sentences of imprisonment also have power to lengthen terms of

imprisonment or to change from a definite to an indefinite term

whenever they become in possession of facts regarding the convict's

previous life or present character, which were unknown to the

sentencing judge?

Should not United States prisoners incarcerated in the various state

prisons have the restrictions of the indeterminate sentence and the

parole, thus securing a uniform system of treatment for all prisoners

and greatly promoting the discipline?

Should we go back of the commission of crimes and ascertain if the

State itself is not committing a crime in imposing and permitting

conditions that beget crime?

Should not the pardoning power be exercised frequently before the

convicted man ever reaches the prison at all? Could not many a man be

saved by being put on probation from the start, who otherwise would be

in great danger of being lost?

Does the discipline of prisons have anything to do with the commission

of offenses by convicts when released? Does the enforced restraint

exerted to the very last moment of his release and then wholly

relaxed, cause the released convict to swing to the other extreme like

Jean Valjean, who after nineteen years of imprisonment for stealing a

loaf of bread and an attempt to escape, robbed his benefactor, the

Bishop, of his plate, and upon being forgiven robbed little Gervais of

his forty sou piece, but afterward got his bearings, attained his

balance and lived an honorable life?

Should any prisoner ever be released at the prison door, or should he

not for his own sake as well as society's be required to live a period

on probation and under oversight, subject to return for violations; in

other words, should not paroles be, under proper restrictions, the

universal and only rule?

To the solution of these and countless other problems let the highest

order of talent, the best combination of head, heart and brain be

summoned: let every prison be a school for study and investigation,

and be engineered and controlled by men of skill, drilled and educated

along these lines, and who are animated by a desire to contribute

their full share towards the upbuilding and uplifting of the race and

the amelioration of the woes that beset mankind.

MEDITATIONS OF A PRISONER.

PREFACE.

To any one who may read these lines I will say: Do not criticise;

I know you will find many mistakes, but I hope you will remember

they are written by one who has not had the advantage of an

education. My school days ended when I was nine years old.

Knowing this, I hope you will excuse mistakes. Respectfully

yours,

E. S. K.

I often wonder if the busy world ever gives a thought to the men

incarcerated in places made for the punishment of crime and

reformation of criminals, but often failing of reaching the desired

result. Why is this failure? It must be from defect in the law or

prison discipline. Some think perhaps the rigid enforcement of the law

in its severest way is right, and that the prisoner should be shown no

mercy. But this is wrong in every detail and should be just the

reverse, so far as consistent with good order and discipline.

A judge in sentencing a prisoner should give a sentence consistent

with justice and mercy, regardless of public sentiment, considering

his own judgment, and not the possible consequences of his act on his

future. Until this is more generally practiced, I am afraid there will

be many too severe sentences passed on minor criminals and first

offenders, as now, which will work to the injury of the convicted

instead of his reformation. In my humble opinion, one year would give

the lesson desired to many a novice in crime who is now serving from

three to ten years. It should be remembered that short sentences give

a novice in crime a wholesome dread of the law and fear of prison

life, while custom and association with criminals tend to harden. The

cases of old offenders, require more severity as regards time of

confinement. Nor can we say to the jurors--or, rather, gentlemen of

the jury--be very careful of what you do. Don't treat the trust you

have in charge too lightly; give it all the consideration you are

masters of. Remember you have the liberty, and, perhaps the life, of

your fellowman at stake. Be very careful of what you do. Allow no

personal motive to interfere with your duty, for, if we believe in the

Bible, those who do so will answer in the hereafter for actions in

this life. Beware, then, of how you mete out justice to your

fellowman. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Weigh

well the evidence given against the prisoner. If you find that there

is a motive on the part of the witnesses to convict the prisoner being

tried, you may rest assured they will trifle with the truth. In such

cases a juror should try and put himself in the defendant's place and

try to assume his feelings and condition, as much as possible, and see

how he would act in a like case. If all jurors would do this, I think

they would give a just and true verdict in nearly all cases. But I

fear as things are now they let the press have too much weight with

the rendering of a just verdict, and it may be of what their friends

will say to them if they have a different opinion. Yet the man who

does such a thing is a coward, a devil incarnate, and unfit to be at

large. Such action may be the cause of making a criminal out of a so

far really honest man. May God forgive them who recklessly tamper

with the liberty of their fellowman. Some may think I am not for

punishment of crime. If so, they are wrong. I believe in punishment of

crime. But I believe in tempering justice with mercy. There should be

no lingering doubt in a person's mind when he gives his verdict

against the prisoner. It is a very easy thing to place a man in

prison, but oh! so hard to get him out. A lie sworn to and believed is

one of the hardest things in the world to get righted. And I know from

personal experience what it is. Though it seems hard to say a lie is

more readily believed against a person charged with a crime than the

truth, yet it seems easier to a great many to believe bad rather than

good of their neighbor. Yet, thank God, it is not so with all. We have

many noble and true Christians yet in this vale of tears--gentlemen

and ladies who practice what they say by many kindly acts to the poor,

unhappy men who are unfortunate enough to get behind prison bars. God

bless them for such acts. It does not hurt them, and gives to the

unhappy prisoner a little happiness--a ray of sunshine through the

clouds that surround him. Continue your noble work. You will be the

gainer in the end, from the knowledge that you have done in the Lord's

work, if in no other way. Oh, could you see the happiness beam from

the eyes of some of those here, after the call of some who take

friendly interest in them, you would know the good they are doing.

Others seem to say: Oh, well, I am forgotten by all. Poor heart; what

a sad lot. It would seem the sooner that death ended their misery the

better. But while there is life there is hope. I must say that many

ladies of C---- are very kind in giving up their own pleasures on

Sundays that prisoners in this prison may have some little change in

their life. The visiting chaplains always bring a choir with them, and

to them we give our heartfelt thanks, with a God bless you. I love to

read of the progress made in these penal institutions where reform is

practiced. I am sure the prisoners must take an interest in it all,

for it is all for their own good. The Stillwater prison and Elmira

prison must be models of neatness and good order, with a perfect

system of discipline. It would be well for all prisons to copy them.

If prisons are supposed to be erected for the purpose of reformation,

why not make them in reality what they are intended to be? Of course,

there are many different kinds of crime committed by men of different

temperaments, all of which are thoroughly understood, or as nearly as

possible. For example, take the greatest crime committed in the eyes

of the law--murder--which is often called murder when there is no

ground for it. The public outcry when one man is unfortunate enough to

take the life of another at a time when he may have every reason to

believe his own life is in the greatest danger. The cry is raised by

some one, possibly an eye-witness--Murder! It is taken up by the press

and conveyed to every one, and possibly a slight coloring given to it.

The people believe it all. The consequence is the public mind is

prejudiced against the prisoner, and it takes a great amount of proof

by the defendant to change that belief, and should he not be able to

produce this evidence, in spite of all he can say he is convicted of

the crime of murder, when in reality he is guilty of manslaughter, if

anything. For, no matter how truthful a man he may be known to be, his

word, unsustained by evidence, is not accepted; while, on the other

side, no matter how untruthful a witness be known to be, he is given

credit for the truth. What kind of a state of affairs is this? No

wonder we often hear the cry go up from some poor wounded or crushed

heart saying: O, God, is there no mercy left in man? Is humanity

wholly dead? Must death overtake me here? Shunned I am by all whom I

once called friends--wife, children, it may be a brother--but never by

a mother, God bless her.

Let us take a look at this class of sufferers. What will we find them?

Idle? No. They are as a rule men attending to their work and

submitting to all the courtesies of life, only asking the same in

return. Surely, such cannot be very bad men, who, hearing the cry of

distress, respond at once to the appeal. I know some such to have a

heart as tender as a woman. Yet you will shut them up, it may be

forever. Don't understand me to say that murder is not committed. Of

course it is, and the law should deal with it accordingly. All true

men regret the taking of human life, even on the field of battle. How

much more so under other circumstances? And the causes are many which

make men do this; some of them hard to understand, may be. In many

cases of this kind they deserve punishment and should be punished.

But, for God's sake, let the punishment be consistent with justice and

mercy. If ten years is not sufficient punishment to make man control

himself in future, why not be merciful and kill him at once? For as we

hope for mercy, so must we show it to others. All other crimes should

be dealt with accordingly. Give a man a chance to reclaim himself.

Should he return to a life of crime in preference to an honest one,

the law has its remedy and can act accordingly. This is well worth a

trial, and by all means should be given one. But I hear some one who

never gave these things a thought say: How is this to be done? I will

answer, Very easily, if it receive the support of our legislative

body, by the recommendation of the state governor. Provide your

prisons with workshops of different kinds--provide them with schools,

and teach the prisoners how to make a living by some useful trade.

Give them a chance to improve themselves by an education. Make the

prison a place of reformation, one of improvement as well as

punishment, and instead of increasing crime you will reduce it, which

should be the aim of all having the good of their fellowman at heart,

and society will be the gainer. I would give a prisoner who would show

by his conduct a spirit of reform a parole after half of his time,

with conditions attached, as is done in the Minnesota state prison, so

that, should he fall back into his old way of living, he would be

returned to prison to serve out the remainder of his sentence. By this

means you to all intents and purposes hold a power over him, and he

will be very careful as to what he is about. This habit in time will

grow upon him and be the cause of making him a good citizen and

trustworthy member of society. To men serving life sentences I would,

on the recommendation of the prison warden, give a parole after

manslaughter sentence has been served. This is a class of men that

deserve some looking after by the kindly interest of humane persons.

Give them hope and encouragement. Do not leave them to their own

morbid thoughts; you cannot tell what drove them to an act they will

regret, whether in or out of prison. If hasty once, it is no reason to

suppose they will be so again. Why not, then, look after them? Let

some of you Christian people talk with them, and if you find they

ought to be assisted, help them. You know not what good you may do,

and without such aid a poor and friendless man in prison is without

hope. Will you, as Christians, let him die believing the word

Christianity a mockery? God forbid. I know there are many good

Christians that feel and mean what they say. But I am afraid that

many of the less courageous are deterred from doing all they would

like to do by the sneers of the hard, cruel world. But this should

only spur you on. If you feel you are right, push on; do not stop half

way.

In connection with the parole law we should have our prisoners graded

as first, second and third class, giving to the second grade or class

advantages above the third, and to the first above the second, giving

them a motive to reform their ways while yet in prison, and their

partial liberty from the first class by parole. By this means you

instill into the prisoner a habit for good which in time will take

root and prove a blessing, not only to the prisoner, but also a source

of pleasure to those bringing it about. It must be expected that some

will fall again; but why should the many suffer for the few? I have

heard and read such sayings as this: The worst men are the best

behaved while in prison if there is anything to be gained by it. I

dispute this. No man can control or hide his real nature for any great

length of time. Nature is bound to come to the surface sooner or

later. The officers and guards of a prison should be men strict in the

enforcement of the prison rules, humane and just in all their actions,

men who by their own actions and deportment will gain and hold the

respect of those under their charge. They should reward the good as

well as punish the evil in men. It would, in my humble opinion, be

nothing but true justice to the prisoner to put the whole power of

pardoning, commuting and paroling prisoners in the hands of the

governor. I do not say a judge will not give justice where clemency is

asked. But it may be the case that a judge on the board of pardons has

sentenced the prisoner, and probably in some way became prejudiced

against the applicant, and it might be the cause of influencing his

vote; consequently, it would look like a piece of injustice to the

prisoner to allow that judge to sit on his case. I think it would be

well for a governor to make himself perfectly acquainted with all

pertaining to the mode of life of the prisoners, as much as possible.

It ought to be remembered that when the prison doors close on a man

your duty is only half done to yourself, the prisoner and society at

large. He needs looking after mentally, morally and physically. Do not

leave him to his own morbid thoughts, but help him to forget his

surroundings as much as possible. Give him hope, for without hope we

are lost to ourselves and the world. It is possible some will say they

ought to be; but it must be a very heartless person who makes this

remark. Remember, while you are walking about to-day, feeling

self-conscious of your own strength to resist any and everything in

the line of temptation, the time may come when you will lose control

of yourself; or, it may be, some one dear to you will fall. In such

cases, how many excuses you can find for yourself or him. Can you find

none for those now suffering for the same? I feel impelled by some

power to speak of those very people in a few lines. Perhaps it may

catch their eye. Why will you follow one to prison with hate, malice

and persecution, one who would not harm a single hair of your head,

one who never had or has a single bitter thought against you, one that

nightly asks God's protection to you and yours? And yet you persecute

him, or it may be them, with all the might you can. Is it not enough

that he has lost home, friends, wife, children and happiness at one

false move? Is it not enough that he is condemned to a living death,

hearing every hour of the day the clang of the iron bars that shut him

out from the world, that separate him from all he loves? I say to you,

is this not enough to satisfy the most bitter feelings of any avowed

enemy? It ought to be. Yes, this ought to satisfy you without trying

to obliterate the memory of the father from the child's heart and

without denying him the privilege of communicating with them; without

denying him the pleasure of doing something for them and of one day

seeing them, which is all he has left to live for. To all to whom

these lines refer, who read them, I will say, change all this. Ask

God's help to give you strength to do right. In time you will feel a

restful peace come to you, and it will make you content, if not happy.

Try this, and may God in his mercy show you the way. And to all

prisoners who may be suffering from the persecution of injustice by

others, I will say the same. Say with all your heart: God forgive

them, they know not what they do. And you will always find a comfort

in helping one another. For as we hope to be forgiven, so must we

forgive. What use in saying the Lord's prayer--Forgive us our

trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us? We must

consider well the meaning of those lines, and if we cannot or do not

comply with all they mean it is better for us not to use them. I thank

God from my heart, I can say I forgive all my enemies. I have nothing

but a kindly feeling for all mankind. I do not mean to say that I am

not ruffled at times, for I am; I would not be human if I were not.

There is one class of men who come to prison that should command the

attention of our lawmakers--namely, married men. Not on their own

account, for they should pay the penalty of the law as well as

another, but on account of their families. It must be remembered that

when you take away the father and supporter of a family you leave them

without the means of support; and if the mother happens to be a sick

and weakly person, what is to become of them?

To be sure, we have the orphans' home and the alms-house, but this is

only taxing more heavily the already over-burdened taxpayers of the

country. Then it would be a commendable act of the legislative bodies

to enact laws to provide for the improvement of such married men and

give the earnings of their labor to their families. This, to me, looks

reasonable and just, and easy of accomplishment, and should be acted

upon by all means. Let me draw you a picture from my imagination: We

will visit a family who are in easy circumstances these cold nights.

What do we see? Well-clad and well-fed children, a happy, contented

look rests upon the wife's and husband's faces. Why should it not be

so? They have plenty to eat and wear; a full bin of coal. Again, visit

one where the husband may be languishing behind the prison bars, but

of the same class. It is not so cheerful, but still no want is felt,

and the father and husband, although chafing at confinement, feels

that his family is not in want. This, of course, will be a consolation

to him. Now let us visit another house, where they have always lived

from hand to mouth. The father is gone. The mother and children, poor

souls, ill-clad, ill-fed, and, my God, it may be, no fire. What a

picture to contemplate. It makes me shudder to think of it. Now come

with me behind the prison bars and see the head of this family.

Knowing the want and needs of his family, and knowing how impossible

it is for him to alleviate their suffering, it is enough to drive a

man insane. But, on the other hand, if this man could earn something

for his family's support, it would relieve his mind of a heavy burden.

Think well of this, and in the name of God change the law that

certainly works contrary to what it was intended for. As it now

stands, you simply provide punishment for the criminals. In so doing

you cause untold suffering and shame to innocent ones. In God's name,

let it cease to be so. Now, then, for fear I may tire the reader, I

will close. Very respectfully,

CHRIST IN GETHSEMANE.

---- State Prison.

January 18, 1886.

Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton,

Prison Evangelist.

My Dearest Sister:--

"What might a single mind may wield,

With Truth for sword and Faith for shield,

And Hope to lead the way:

Thus all high triumphs are obtained,

From evil good--as God ordained

The night before the day!"

"And being in an agony, He prayed."--St. Luke 22:44.

When the last supper was over, and the last hymn had been sung, our

Lord and His Apostles--with the one traitor fatally absent from their

number--went out of the city gate, and down the steep valley of the

Kidron to the green slope of Olivet beyond it. Solemn and sad was that

last walk together; and a weight of mysterious awe sank like lead upon

the hearts of those few poor Galileans as in almost unbroken

silence,--through the deep hush of the Oriental night,--through the

dark shadows of the ancient olive-trees,--through the broken gleams of

the Paschal moonlight,--they followed Him, their Lord and Master, who,

with bowed head and sorrowing heart, walked before them to His willing

doom.

That night they did not return as usual to Bethany, but stopped at the

little familiar garden of Gethsemane, or "the oilpress." Jesus knew

that the hour of His uttermost humiliation was near,--that from this

moment till the utterance of that great cry which broke His heart,

nothing remained for Him on earth, save all that the human frame can

tolerate of torturing pain, and all that the human soul can bear of

poignant anguish--till in that torment of body and desolation of soul,

even the high and radiant serenity of His divine spirit should suffer

a short but terrible eclipse. One thing alone remained before that

short hour began; a short space was left Him, and in that space He had

to brace His body, to nerve His soul, to calm His spirit by prayer and

solitude, until all that is evil in the power of evil should wreak its

worst upon His innocent and holy head. And He had to face that

hour,--to win that victory,--as all the darkest hours must be faced,

as all the hardest victories must be won--alone. It was not that He

was above the need of sympathy,--no noble soul is;--and perhaps the

noblest need it most. Though His friends did but sleep, while the

traitor toiled, yet it helped Him in His hour of darkness to feel at

least that they were near and that those were nearest who loved Him

most. "Stay here," He said to the little group, "while I go yonder and

pray." Leaving them to sleep, each wrapped in his outer garment on the

grass, He took Peter and James and John, the chosen of the chosen, and

went about a stone's-throw off. But soon even _their_ presence was

more than He could endure. A grief beyond utterance, a struggle beyond

endurance, a horror of great darkness, overmastered Him, as with the

sinking swoon of an anticipated death. He must be yet more alone, and

alone with God. Reluctantly He tore Himself away from their sustaining

tenderness, and amid the dark-brown trunks of those gnarled trees

withdrew from the moonlight into the deeper shade, where solitude

might be for Him the audience-chamber of His Heavenly Father. And

there, till slumber overpowered them, His three beloved Apostles were

conscious how dreadful was the paroxysm through which He passed. They

saw Him sometimes with head bowed upon His knees, sometimes lying on

His face in prostrate suffering upon the ground. And though amazement

and sore distress fell on them,--though the whole place seemed to be

haunted by Presences of good and evil struggling in mighty but silent

contest for the eternal victory,--yet, before they sank under the

oppression of troubled slumber, they knew that they had been the dim

witnesses of an unutterable agony, in which the drops of anguish which

dropped from His brow in that deathful struggle looked to them like

gouts of blood, and yet the burden of those broken murmurs in which He

pleaded with His Heavenly Father had been ever this, "If it be

possible,--yet not what I will, but what Thou wilt."

What is the meaning, my beloved sister, of this scene for us? What was

the cause of this midnight hour? Do you think that it was the fear of

death, and that that was sufficient to shake to its utmost center the

pure and innocent soul of the Son of Man? Could not even a child see

how inconsistent such a fear would be with all that followed;--with

that heroic fortitude which fifteen consecutive hours of sleepless

agony could not disturb;--with that majestic silence which overawed

even the hard Roman into respect and fear;--with that sovereign

ascendency of soul which flung open the golden gate of Paradise to the

repentant malefactor, and breathed its compassionate forgiveness on

the apostate priest? Could He have been afraid of death, in whose

name, and in whose strength, and for whose sake alone, trembling old

men, and feeble maidens, and timid boys have faced it in its worst

form without a shudder or a sigh? My friend, the dread of the mere act

of dying is a cowardice so abject that the meanest passions of the

mind can master it, and many a coarse criminal has advanced to meet

his end with unflinching confidence and steady step. And Jesus knew,

if any have ever known, that it is as natural to die as to be

born,--that it is the great birthright of all who love God;--that it

is God who giveth His beloved sleep. The sting of death--and its only

sting--is sin; the victory of the grave--and its only victory--is

corruption. And Jesus knew no sin, saw no corruption. No, that which

stained His forehead with crimson drops was something far deadlier

than death. Though sinless He was suffering for sin. The burden and

the mystery of man's strange and revolting wickedness lay heavy on His

soul; and with holy lips He was draining the bitter cup into which sin

had infused its deadliest poison. Could perfect innocence endure

without a shudder all that is detestable in human ingratitude and

human rage? Should there be no recoil of horror in the bosom of

perfect love to see His own,--for whom he came,--absorbed in one

insane repulsion against infinite purity and tenderness and peace? It

was a willing agony, but it was agony; it was endured for our sakes;

the Son of God suffered that He might through suffering become perfect

in infinite sympathy as a Savior strong to save.

And on all the full mysterious meaning of that agony and bloody sweat

it would be impossible now to dwell, but may we not for a short time

dwell with profit--may not every one whose heart--being free from the

fever of passion, and unfretted by the pettiness of pride--is calm and

meek and reverent enough to listen to the messages of God, even be

they spoken by the feeblest of human lips,--may we not all, I say,

learn something from this fragment of that thrilling story

that--"being in an agony, He prayed"?

"The chosen three, on mountain height,

While Jesus bowed in prayer,

Beheld His vesture glow with light,

His face shine wondrous fair."

To every one of us, I suppose, sooner or later the Gethsemane of life

must come. It may be the Gethsemane of struggle, and poverty and

care;--it may be the Gethsemane of long and weary sickness;--it may be

the Gethsemane of farewells that wring the heart by the deathbeds of

those we love;--it may be the Gethsemane of remorse, and of well-nigh

despair, for sins that we will not--but which we say we

cannot--overcome. Well, my dearest sister, in that Gethsemane--aye,

even in that Gethsemane of sin--no angel merely,--but Christ Himself

who bore the burden of our sins,--will, if we seek Him, come to

comfort us. He will, if being in agony, we pray. He can be touched, He

is touched, with the feeling of our infirmities. He, too, has trodden

the winepress of agony alone; He, too, has lain face downwards in the

night upon the ground; and the comfort which then came to Him He has

bequeathed to us--even the comfort, the help, the peace, the recovery,

the light, the hope, the faith, the sustaining arm, the healing

anodyne of prayer. It is indeed a natural comfort--and one to which

the Christian at least flies instinctively. When the water-floods

drown us,--when all God's waves and storms seem to be beating over our

souls,--when "Calamity comes like a deluge, and o'erfloods our crimes

till sin is hidden in sorrow"--oh, then, if we have not wholly

quenched all spiritual life within us, what can we do but fling

ourselves at the foot of those great altar stairs that slope through

darkness to God? Yes, being in an agony, we pray; and the talisman

against every agony is there.

And herein lies the great mercy and love of God, that we may go to

Him in our agony even if we have never gone before. Oh, if prayer were

possible only for the always good and always true, possible only for

those who have never forsaken or forgotten God,--if it were not

possible for sinners and penitents and those who have gone

astray,--then of how infinitely less significance would it be for

sinful and fallen man! But our God is a God of Love, a God of Mercy.

He is very good to us. The soul may come bitter and disappointed, with

nothing left to offer Him but the dregs of a misspent life;--the soul

may come, like that sad Prodigal, weary and broken, and shivering, and

in rags; but if it only come--the merciful door is open still, and

while yet we are a great way off our Father will meet and forgive and

comfort us. And then what a change is there in our lives! They are

weak no longer; they are discontented no longer; they are the slaves

of sin no longer. You have seen the heavens gray with dull and

leaden-colored clouds, you have seen the earth chilly and comfortless

under its drifts of unmelting snow: but let the sun shine, and then

how rapidly does the sky resume its radiant blue, and the fields laugh

with green grass and vernal flower! So will it be with even a withered

and a wasted life when we return to God and suffer Him to send His

bright beams of light upon our heart. I do not mean that the pain or

misery under which we are suffering will necessarily be removed,--even

for Christ it was not so; but peace will come and strength will come

and resignation will come and hope will come,--and we shall feel able

to bear anything which God shall send, and though He slays us we still

shall seek Him, and even if the blackest cloud of anguish seem to

shroud His face from us, even on that cloud shall the rainbow shine.

You do not think, my sister, that because God never rejects the prayer

of sinner or sufferer, that therefore we may go on sinning, trusting

to repent when we suffer. That would be a shameful abuse of God's

mercy and tenderness; it would be a frame of mind which would need

this solemn warning, that agony by no means always leads to prayer;

that it may come when prayer is possible no longer to the

long-hardened and long-prayerless soul. I know no hope so senseless,

so utterly frustrated by all experience, as the hope of what is called

deathbed repentance. Those who are familiar with many deathbeds will

tell you why. But prayer--God's blessed permission to us, to see Him

and to know Him, and to trust in Him--_that_ is granted us not for the

hours of death or agony alone, but for all life, almost from the very

cradle quite to the very grave. And it is a gift no less priceless for

its alleviation of sorrow than for its intensification of all innocent

joy. For him who would live a true life it is as necessary in

prosperity as in adversity,--in peace as in trouble,--in youth as in

old age. Here, too, Christ is our example. He lived, as we may live,

in the light of His Father's face. It was not only as the Man of

Sorrows, it was not only in the moonlit garden of His agony, or on the

darkening hills of His incessant toil, that prayer had refreshed His

soul; but often during those long unknown years in the little Galilean

village,--daily, and from childhood upwards, in sweet hours of peace,

kneeling amid the mountain lilies or on the cottage floor. Those

prayers are to the soul what the dew of God is to the flowers of the

field; the burning wind of the day may pass over them, and the stems

droop and the colors fade, but when the dew steals down at evening,

they will revive. Why should not that gracious dew fall even now and

always for all of us upon the fields of life? A life which has been

from the first a life of prayer,--a life which has thus from its

earliest days looked up consciously to its Father and its God,--will

always be a happy life. Time may fleet, and youth may fade,--as they

will, and there may be storm as well as sunshine in the earthly

career; yet it will inevitably be a happy career, and with a happiness

that cannot die. Yes, this is the lesson which I would that we all

might learn from the thought of Christ in the garden of

Gethsemane;--the lesson that Prayer may recall the sunshine even to

the dark and the frozen heart; but that there is no long winter, there

is no unbroken night, to that soul on which the Sun of Righteousness

has risen with healing in His wings.

And that because true prayer is always heard. We read in the glorious

old Greek poet of prayers which, before they reached the portals of

heaven were scattered by the winds; and indeed there are some prayers

so deeply opposed to the will of God, so utterly alien to the true

interests of men, that nothing could happen better for us than that

God should refuse, nothing more terrible than that He should grant

them in anger. So that if we pray for any earthly blessing we may pray

for it solely "if it be God's will"; "if it be for our highest good,"

but, for all the best things we may pray without misgiving, without

reservation, certain that if we ask God will grant them. Nay, even in

asking for them we may know that we have them,--for what we desire to

ask, and what we ask, we aim at, and what we aim at we shall attain.

No man ever yet asked to be, as the days pass by, more noble, and

sweet, and pure, and heavenly-minded,--no man ever yet prayed that the

evil spirits of hatred, and pride, and passion, and worldliness, might

be cast out of his soul,--without his petition being granted, and

granted to the letter. And with all other gifts God then gives us His

own self besides,--He makes us know Him, and love Him, and live in

Him. "Thou hast written well of me," said the Vision to the great

teacher of Aquinum, "what reward dost thou desire?" "Non aliam, nisi

te Domine"--"no other than Thyself, O Lord," was the meek and rapt

reply. And when all our restless, fretful, discontented longings are

reduced to this alone, the desire to see God's face;--when we have

none in Heaven but Him, and none upon earth whom we desire in

comparison of Him;--then we are indeed happy beyond the reach of any

evil thing, for then we have but one absorbing wish, and that wish

cannot be refused. Least of all can it be refused when it has pleased

God to afflict us.

"Ye now have sorrow," said Christ, "but I will see you again, and your

heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." Yes, when

God's children pass under the shadows of the Cross of Calvary they

know that through that shadow lies their passage to the Great White

Throne. For them Gethsemane is as Paradise. God fills it with sacred

presences; its solemn silence is broken by the music of tender

promises; its awful darkness softened and brightened by the sunlight

of heavenly faces, and the music of angel wings.

"I am baptized into thy name,

O Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

Among thy seed a place I claim,

Among thy consecrated host;

Buried with Christ and dead to sin,

Thy Spirit now shall live within."

"And we have seen and do testify that the Father sent the Son to be

the Savior of the world."

Your Brother in Christ,

L. J.

You remember the kiss and the last words she uttered,