_Heard Within Prison Walls_
Some of the world's greatest books were written in prison. Think of the
Epistles of St. Paul which came from such secluded confines. _The
Pilgrim's Progress_, which has been translated into more languages than
any other book except the Bible, was written by Bunyan in Bedford Jail.
Silvio Pellico, an Italian man of letters, recounted his ten years of
imprisonment at Spielberg, Austria, and declared that religion was his
chief consolation. The singing of St. Paul and Silas during their
imprisonment at Philippi had memorable results. There are many other
instances of beneficial consequences in connection with these dismal
incarcerations.
The incidents in this chapter have to do with the influences upon the
prisoners themselves and how they were converted to Christ and comforted
in their distress. Such transcripts of life under inconceivably trying
circumstances give evidence of the power of the Gospel. One of the most
remarkable recent books is entitled _A Gentleman in Prison_, giving the
experiences of Tokichi Ishii, a converted Japanese criminal, who was
executed in due course for murder.
The first one tells how
Prisoners Sang "The Glory Song"
"The Glory Song" attained a marvelous popularity soon after it was
published in 1900. In less than five years it was being sung in many
languages all over the world. Several interesting incidents are related
of its influence but one that Homer Rodeheaver wrote in _Zion's Herald_,
Boston, is worthy of note:
"I have heard it in a number of instances sung by over ten thousand
people, but the most impressive rendering I ever heard given to it was
by a certain audience of over one thousand men. These men were all
dressed in steel gray suits, and sat with folded arms; the man who
played the organ and the man who held the baton and led the song were
dressed in exactly the same way. Down the right side, across the rear
and up the left side of the chapel room, on high stools, sat a row of
men in blue uniforms, holding heavy canes across their knees, these men
seemed never for an instant to take their eyes from certain spots in
front of them. Not a man whispered during the service--for it was a
state's prison. Among the congregation of 1077 men, 256 were there for
life--there to live and die--and on each of their cell doors, where they
would read it every time they left and re-entered, was that startling
word 'Life.'
"How strangely their voices impressed me--these men without a country,
without a home, without a name, deprived of every privilege accorded to
all men by the Almighty, and known only by a number. As I sat before
them, the prison pallor of their faces against its background of gray
within that frame of blue, made a picture never to be forgotten. With
few exceptions, every man sang. Here sat one with downcast eyes, there
another with mute lips, while yonder near the center a large, strong
fellow was weeping like a little child--but silently. They told me he
had been there but a short time, and I wondered if he had heard the song
before, under different circumstances--and where, for he had a kindly
face. Softly they sang that last stanza:
'Friends will be there I have loved long ago;
Joys like a river around me will flow;
Yet, just a smile from my Saviour, I know,
Will through the ages be glory for me.'
The song ended, the chaplain said a brief prayer, and that great crowd
of men, at signals from the guards in blue, marched out squad by squad,
keeping step to the music of the organ played by the man in gray."
Their deepest feelings are portrayed in
The Hymn of the Prisoner
Describing a chapel service in Auburn (New York) prison, a newspaper
correspondent wrote:
"One of the hymns the men sang was 'Pardon the Debt and Make Me Free.'
They sang that over and over again, and it seemed to express the
feelings of every convict."
The extraordinary circumstances in which a hymn was used are described
in this incident when
A Condemned Man Wanted "Face to Face" Sung
The story of the writings of Mrs. Carrie Ellis Breck, who spent her
girlhood days on her father's fruit farm in New Jersey, was related by
A. L. Lawson in _The Christian Herald_. From that article the following
is taken:
"Perhaps the experience that touched her most deeply of all, and the one
she most treasures, is that of the time when a poor condemned man,
sentenced to be hanged, asked that her hymn, 'Face to Face with Christ
My Saviour,' be sung before his execution. As the doomed wretch was led
out, and looked for the last time upon what was left him of the world,
there came to him the sweet words of her hymn--
'Face to face with Christ my Saviour,
Face to face, how can it be,
When with rapture I behold Him,
Jesus Christ, Who died for me?
Face to face shall I behold Him
Far beyond the starry sky;
Face to face in all His glory,
I shall see Him by and by!'"[17]
The pathos of the situation is recounted by a prison chaplain in England
who tells of
Hymns Selected by Prisoners
This chaplain, the Rev. G. A. Metcalfe, found men confined for various
crimes. One was convicted of murder, but his sentence of death had been
commuted to penal servitude. During the first service this murderer sat
alone on the front seat. "There were hardened criminals behind, and here
and there some mothers' lads with fine faces and soulful eyes glistening
with tears." After his address he asked the prisoners to select two or
three hymns. One was "Jesus Is Tenderly Calling" and they sang it with
the utmost fervor. Then a young fellow called out his choice and there
was a sob in the voices as they sang:
"Holy Father, in Thy mercy,
Hear our anxious prayer:
Keep our loved ones, now far absent,
'Neath Thy care."
An experience of the days before prohibition was recorded in _The
Youth's Companion_, when
Judge and Criminals Listened To "The Holy City"
Thirty men, red-eyed and disheveled, lined up before a judge of the San
Francisco police court. It was the regular morning company of "drunks
and disorderlies." Just as the momentary disorder attending the bringing
in of the prisoners quieted down, a strange thing happened. A strong,
clear voice from below began singing:
"Last night I lay a-sleeping,
There came a dream so fair."
Last night! It had been for them all a nightmare or a drunken stupor.
The song was such a contrast to the horrible fact that no one could fail
of a sudden shock at the thought the song suggested.
"I stood in old Jerusalem,
Beside the temple there,"
the song went on. The judge had paused. He made a quiet inquiry. A
former member of a famous opera company, known all over the country, was
awaiting trial for forgery. It was he who was singing in his cell.
Meantime the song went on, and every man on the line showed emotion. At
length, one man protested.
"Judge," said he, "have we got to submit to this? We're here to take our
punishment, but this--" and he began to sob.
It was impossible to proceed with the business of the court, yet the
judge gave no order to stop the song. It moved on to its climax:
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem! Sing for the night is o'er!
Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna for evermore!"
In an ecstasy of melody the last words rang out, and then there was
silence.
The judge looked into the faces of the men before him. There was not one
who was not touched by the song; not one in whom some better impulse was
not stirred. He did not call the cases singly--a kind word of advice,
and he dismissed them all. No man was fined or sentenced to the
workhouse that morning. The song had done more good than punishment
could have accomplished.