As well might men uproot the earth As by their scoff or scorn Think to accomplish parting us Because our hearts now mourn.

Nay, dear wife, I feel for thee, As ne'er I felt before, Prizing thee with deeper strength For pining sad and sore.

While there you wait my glad release, The day that sets me free, Await my coming home to wife; Yes, wife and children three.

And I will come. Have patience, wife, The time will wear away, And day by day approaches near That glad releasing day.

With little baby in your arms, Two others at your knee; I know, dear wife, your heart is sad And longs to see me free.

To help you in your daily toil; To earn for them their bread; To clothe and help and comfort them, And find a shelter for each head.

But cheer up, wife, and so will I, As mankind surely may, Till darkness fade in morning light That ushers in the day.

And oh, what joy will visit us, What peace in that glad hour; Our home shall then renew its strength In all its silent power.

Here as I lay me down to sleep, In my narrow little cell, I think of the happy times we've spent In the shady wooded dell.

How we plucked the flowers beside our path, And strolled along the stream, Neither feeling aught of sorrow, For life was like a pleasant dream.

But alas, my dear one, all is changed; And we are parted now for years; But well we know that G.o.d will come And wipe away our falling tears.

Sin, dear wife, hast brought the change; Sin has caused our grief and pain; But now that I trust in Jesus I will never fall again.

In my very darkest moments Would you know what comforts me?

'Tis my living faith in Jesus, In Him who died on Calvary.

He died on the cross for you, dear wife, His precious blood was shed for me; All our sins on Him were laid When they nailed Him to the tree.

And now that blessed Saviour, Who was born at Bethlehem, Looks down from the heights of heaven On the sinful souls of men.

His thoughts are full of mercy, His heart is filled with love.

He is pleading with the Father That we might come above.

So we will trust our Saviour, And follow where He leads; And say, in faith believing, He'll provide for all our needs.

So we'll walk close beside Him And let Him take our hand; As He points, with face all shining, To that bright and happy land.

And oft to others round us The story we will tell, How Jesus Christ saves sinners, The heavenly hosts to swell.

You will tell them, wife, how He found me, Sinful and all cast down, And how through love He raised me up And promised me a crown.

And when we see still others Caught in Satan's snare, We'll lead them on to Jesus, And leave them in His care.

And when He treats them gently, As He treats both you and me, Other sinners, looking on, To His bosom soon will flee.

For thus the world around us For Christ could soon be won; He'll end in glorious triumph The work He has begun.

All glory then to Jesus!

Sing praises to His name!

He saved lost sinners years gone by, And today He'll do the same.

In language very simple I've told to you, dear wife, My love to you, your love to me, And the love of Jesus Christ.

So we'll just keep on trusting In the Saviour G.o.d has given; And He will fill with peace Our journey on to heaven.

And we'll not forget the Father, But give thanks for all He's done, In giving us our Saviour, In His own beloved Son.

WOMAN'S LOVE.

TO MRS. WHEATON.

These lines are most respectfully presented as a prisoner's tribute of sincere respect:

O, woman's love, past understanding!

So near to G.o.d's, so wondrous deep: Deep as the depths of s.p.a.ce; expanding Till it blooms beyond death's mystic sleep

Throughout the earth, the rich and lowly It reigns supreme within her breast.

O, woman's love! through its beauty holy She will win eternal rest.

Born of woman, purest, dearest Lily of fair Bethlehem, Christ to her will be the nearest In his bright home--Jerusalem.

A fadeless flower in beauty blooming 'Midst heaven's host of immortelles.

His peerless love her soul perfuming She'll reign a queen mid arch angels

J. W. L.

Cole City, Ga., Sunday night, Nov. 17, 1889.

TAKE THIS MESSAGE TO MY MOTHER.

(Written by a Prisoner in Jackson, Miss.)

Take this message to my mother, It will fill her heart with joy; Tell her that her prayer is answered, Christ has saved her wandering boy:

Tho' through sin from home I've wandered, And I almost broke her heart; Tell her to be glad and cheerful, Never from the Lord I'll part.

CHORUS.

Take this message to my mother, It will fill her heart with joy; Tell her that her prayer is answered, Christ has saved her wandering boy.

How she wept when last we parted, How her heart did ache with pain When she said: "Good-bye, G.o.d bless you, We may never meet again."

O my boy, just look to Jesus, What a friend He is to all!

Only trust Him, He will save you-- Can't you hear His sweet voice call?

In this world of sin are many Who have wandered far from G.o.d.

Will your mother's prayers be answered?