Recollections of Windsor Prison; / Containing Sketches of its History and Discipline, with Appropriate Strictures and Moral and Religious Reflection

by of Vermont John Reynolds

REV. JOHN ROBBINS' VISIT TO WINDSOR PRISON.

It was in the spring of 1829 that the Rev. John Robbins visited the State Prison in Windsor, Vermont, in which a number of years before he had been a prisoner. He was recognized by a few of the oldest inhabitants of that gloomy mansion, who had been his fellow-prisoners, and particularly by the writer of this article who had been his cell-mate. He obtained permission of the Superintendent, and preached in the prison chapel the first Sabbath after his arrival in town. As he entered the pulpit a thrill of indescribable but pleasing emotion darted through the bosoms of his old acquaintances, at witnessing the great and happy change of which he had obviously been the subject. A few short years before, he had occupied a seat among the hearers in that doleful place, and no one questioned his right to that distinction; but now he appeared as an accredited minister of the gospel, "to preach deliverance to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound." Every eye was fastened upon him, and a solemn death-like stillness pervaded the room. After a few minutes he gave out the following appropriate and affecting psalm, which was sung with sympathetic expression by the choir:

"Father, I bless thy gentle hand;
How kind was thy chastising rod,
Which forced my conscience to a stand
And brought my wandering soul to God.

"Foolish and vain, I went astray;
Ere I had felt thy scourges, Lord,
I left my guide, and lost my way;
But now I love and keep thy word.

"'Tis good for me to wear the yoke,
For pride is apt to rise and swell;
'Tis good to bear my Father's stroke,
That I might learn his statutes well."

After this psalm was sung he prayed—but such a prayer had not often been heard in that place. Solemn and awful language, on flame with heaven's own spirit, and big with holy desires, marked this effort of his impassioned soul. That prayer was heard in heaven; for such a prayer can never be made in vain. It produced an unutterable effect on every heart; and the impression it made on mine is, at this moment, among my liveliest and dearest recollections.

His text was,—"Godliness is profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come." I will not attempt to give even a skeleton of the overpowering sermon which followed. I was too much affected for memory to perform its office. Unlike many of the pulpit efforts which I had been accustomed to hear, it was not characterized by polished periods and classical elegance, but by the thunder and lightning of Mount Sinai. It was a storm which shook the soul, and roused up all its powers. The preacher was evidently in awful earnest;—his lifted arm, his swelling voice, his beaming eyes, denoted the man who felt the importance, and believed the truth of what he said. Until now, he sustained himself in firm and perfect self-possession; but when he came to advert to his former situation, and point out the very seat he had occupied among his hearers, his firmness deserted him. His eyes swam in tears—his voice fell down into interrupted and trembling accents—and his mind became perfectly unnerved. Sympathy, inspired his feelings in his congregation—every eye was moistened—sighs echoed to sighs—some wept aloud—and the whole scene was one of mingled, ungovernable emotions.

With this sermon commenced a glorious revival of religion in the Prison. That long and much neglected moral waste began to exhibit the buds of promise; that spiritual desert began to smile with freshness and bloom; and after twenty years of famine, more dreadful than that which devoured the plenty of Egypt, the Lord began to pour down the streams of his grace, and spread a feast of fat things before the dying souls of His creatures. Angels, whose far-reaching vision embraces a thousand worlds, never saw a spot more spiritually and morally barren, than had been the State Prison at Windsor from the very commencement of its history up to the happy time under consideration. But now the scene began to change; the wilderness and the solitary place began to rejoice, and the desert to blossom as the rose. Mr. Robbins, at the request of the Superintendent, continued there about five mouths, during which time, I have as much evidence as any such case admits of, that one half of the prisoners became the subjects of serious convictions, and one fourth part were thoroughly converted to God. It is due to the Hon. J. H. Cotton, Superintendent of the Prison, to say, that he cordially co-operated with Mr. R. and granted the prisoners every indulgence which reason could ask. Sabbath Schools were established; Bible Classes were formed; and the Prison became a temple with a worshipper in every cell. The other means used by Mr. R. were private conversation, tracts, and plain, pungent preaching.

While this delightful work was in progress, the following hymn was composed by one of the prisoners and sung by them in their meetings; and as it gives a very impressive and accurate view of the power and character of this display of saving mercy to the doubly lost, I will insert it here for the gratification of the reader:

"Rejoice, O my soul, see the trophies of grace
Submitting to Jesus and shouting his praise;
Like doves to their windows, or clouds through the sky,
From sin's darkest borders for safety they fly.

"This strong bolted dungeon is vocal with prayer,
And joy rolls her orb through the sky of despair;
This strong hold of Satan is trembling to fall,
The power of Jehovah is seen by us all.

"The angel of mercy can visit a cell,
And on the dark bosom of misery dwell.
The sunbeams of heaven can shine from above,
And glow on our midnight a rainbow of love.

"All glorious Eternal! we tremble and fear;
How awful this place is, we know Thou art here!
In thy dreadful presence adoring we fall.
Well pleas'd to be nothing, and Thou all in all!"

I must ask the indulgence of the reader for introducing another hymn, by the same author, which also exhibits the true extent and glory of the work, in contrast with the darkness and misery which preceded it. It is inscribed to Mr. Robbins:

"I was in prison and ye came unto me."

Jesus Christ.

"Around our horizon no twilight was streaming,
Nor faint twinkling star shot a ray thro' the gloom;
No taper of life in our dungeons was gleaming,
But darkness and death roll'd dismay thro' our tomb.

"When, clear as the sun, rob'd in beams of the morning,
You rose on our darkness with soul-cheering ray;
To temples of worship our dungeons transforming,
And pouring around us the noon-blaze of day.

"In every hall now an altar is burning,
And incense of praise rolls from many a heart;
The ransom'd of Christ are to Zion returning,
With firm resolution no more to depart.

"How sweet is the sound! holy anthems are ringing,
And cell back to cell echoes triumph and praise!
And while to the theme of salvation I'm singing,
The glory of God bursts around in a blaze!

"My soul, bless the Lord! be his mercy forever
The theme of my song and the flame of my heart!
And from his commands may I wander no never!
Nor from his dear service one moment depart!

"Go on, sent of God! See! all ripe for the sickle
The harvest is waving, and bright in your view,
Confide not in man, all inconstant and fickle,
But trust in the Lord ever faithful and true."

In the course of about five months, this shower of divine mercy passed completely by and went off, after watering richly that sterile region, and causing it to brighten with the fairest promises of a glorious harvest. Never was there a work of grace more pleasing in its developement, more thorough in its searchings into the heart, or that will in my firm opinion, be more lasting in its joyful effects. There were no enthusiastic ravings—none of the mysticism of fanatics; but every part of the work was characteristic of the deep and reforming energies of the Spirit of God on the soul. That there were some who banished their serious convictions from their minds, there can be no doubt; and that some who entered the race, run well only for a season, and then turned back, is equally probable. These are dark spots from which no bright display of saving mercy is ever perfectly free. But I am, on the other hand, just as firmly persuaded, that as many as thirty of those who were then outcasts from society, became free citizens of the Redeemer's kingdom, and will "walk with him in white" in the world of glory.

From the preceding rapid sketch of a work of grace in a State Prison, the following affecting truths force themselves inferentially upon the mind.

1. The most abandoned among the sons of men, are fully within the saving influences of Gospel truth, when it is judiciously applied to the conscience and heart.

2. State Prisons are too much neglected in the benevolent and pious enterprises of this missionary and philanthropic age. Ministers of Jesus have gone out, and others are going out, to the extremities of the globe, to evangelize the heathen, while they too obviously disregard the injunction of the blessed Jesus so plainly and energetically implied in these words,—"I was in prison and ye visited me not."

3. Any humble self-denying servant of Him who came to say to prisoners, Go forth—to pardon a dying thief—and point out to repentant crime the path of righteousness, who will, in the spirit of his Master, devote himself to the great work of preaching the everlasting Gospel in State Prisons, will joyfully witness the gloom departing from those fields of spiritual desolation, and find his sacred, untiring labors amply repaid, by the success with which, sooner or later, they will be graciously crowned.

In conclusion, permit me to call the attention of all benevolent and pious minds, to the deplorable condition of those whose crimes have justly cut them off from the sweets of liberty and the endearments of social life, and consigned them to a living death within the gloomy walls of a State Prison. With an emphasis that might pierce the soul, they say to you,—"Have pity upon us! have pity upon us, O ye our friends! for the hand of God hath touched us!" But this plaintive cry is heard only to be forgotten. If any class of darkened, perverted, and ruined humanity, has any claim on the sympathies of Christians, this is that class. This Howard felt, and, by his efforts to meliorate their condition, he became the acknowledged prince of philanthropists, and earned an immortal and sacred fame. Our State Prisons, it is true, are not the dark subterranean hells of Europe; but they are, in the fullest American sense of that term,—State Prisons. And why will not some American Howard, some baptized and heavenly spirit, take a thorough and christian survey of these places, and become a christian Howard by causing all the means of grace, like so many rivers from the throne of God, to roll their pure, and comforting, and saving waters, through all their gloomy abodes.

The Author's Farewell to Liberty and his Friends.

Published after he had been confined nine years, and a few months before he received his pardon.

"

We hung our harps upon the willows.

"—

Captive Israel.

Farewell, enchanting goddess,
Whose smile all nature cheers,
And pours the light of heaven
Around sublunar years.

Adieu, thou seraph beauty;
With blushing roses crown'd,
Thy breath no more inspires me,
Thy flowers no more surround,

No more, with thee conversing,
I spend the joyous day,
While hours of laughing pleasure,
Unheeded dance away.

Thy fields, by spring enamell'd,
These feet no more can tread,
Nor in poetic rambles,
To whisp'ring rills be led.

Long on the leafless willow,
My tuneless harp has hung,
The themes are all forgotten,
On which its numbers rung.

Ye groves, with music sounding,
Ye vales, in smiling bloom,
Ye deep and waving forests,
The seats of pleasing gloom;

Ye lov'd and honor'd circles,
Where peace and friendship dwell—
To all these scenes of pleasure,
How can I say—FAREWELL?

How can I, honour'd Mother,
Whose mem'ry I adore,
Endure the thought, so painful,
Of seeing you no more?

You form'd my heart to virtue,
My infant mind to truth,
And led me, pure and blameless,
Amid the snares of youth.

From you the dear idea
Of God I first receiv'd,
And charm'd by your example,
I in his name believ'd.

To that adored Being
You taught these lips to pray,
And bless'd my painful childhood
With views of heavenly day.

Yet O! farewell, dear mother!—
Be God Himself your Friend,
Your Comforter in trouble,
Your Saviour in the end!

Farewell, beloved brothers;
My frailties O! forgive!
And while I breathe, repenting,
May you respected live.

Endear'd, adored sisters—
But O! my heart, forbear!
How, from thy clasping fibres,
Can I these idols tear!

We've lov'd and wept together,
And till my latest breath,
This heart shall bear their features,
And cling to them in death!

Each fond association,
How round my heart it plays!
And wakes the recollection
Of dear departed days!

These fled—afflictions follow'd;
They, too, will soon be o'er—
Soon we shall meet in heaven,
To separate no more.

How oft have these dear kindreds
Bedew'd my path with tears,
And follow'd me, lamenting,
Thro' many gloomy years.

But now they weep no longer—
The last sad tears they shed,
Fell on that mournful evening
When they pronounced me DEAD!

They've buri'd me, tho' living,
And worn their sable weeds,
And down to blank oblivion
My memory recedes!

Dead!—would to God I were so!
Why should I wish to live?
A wretched, joyless creature,
And only spar'd to grieve!

The gloom of death surrounds me,
And chills me to the soul;
My tears by sorrow frozen,
Have long refus'd to roll.

In vain the pleasing changes
Of darkness and of day,
Of bloom and desolation,
Around my dungeon play.

There is no day in prison,
But ever-during night;
No pleasing moral verdure,
But everlasting blight.

The sun of joy has sunken
Behind affliction's cloud,
And wrapp'd the earth and heavens
Deep in an endless shroud.

Nine summers have roll'd o'er me,
As many springs have smil'd,
Nine autumns pour'd their treasure,
Nine winters whistled wild,

Since on me clos'd and bolted
Those ever-frowning gates,
And all my views of freedom
Have been thro' iron grates.

Yet here I breathe, unhappy,
No hope of freedom see—
O! when, enchanting goddess,
Shall I return to thee?

Thron'd on thy native mountain,
Beneath the ample sky,
Thou heedest not my anguish,
Nor hear'st my frequent sigh.

Against embattled legions
Thy panoply I bore,
And from the brow of victors,
The wreath of vict'ry tore.

But thou hast me deserted,
And left to weep in vain,
In this all-gloomy dungeon
To clank my galling chain!

But cease my guilty murmurs,
My punishment is right;
I forc'd my way to ruin,
Against the clearest light.

An angel, sent from heaven,
Inform'd my op'ning mind,
And to the side of virtue,
My shooting thoughts inclin'd.

Religion—always lovely—
Appear'd more lovely still,
While with its heavenly spirit,
She strove my heart to fill.

Of vice the awful features
Her faithful pencil drew,
And from the horrid image
My frighted eyes withdrew.

O! had I wisely cherish'd
These seeds, so timely sown,
The tears of vain repentance
These eyes had never known.

In all the charms of virtue,
Unfallen I had stood,
By keen remorse unwither'd,
Respected by the good.

O! false, alluring phantoms,
Which led my feet astray,
In paths to ruin leading,
From wisdom's peaceful way.

Yet is maternal culture
Most salutary still;
The frost of vice may wither
The germ it cannot kill.

The tide of sinful pleasure
Its poisonous wave may roll,
And long the blighting tempest
May chill the youthful soul;

It cannot kill—no, never—
(Then, mothers, don't despair!)
The seeds of moral virtue,
So early planted there.

Some heaven-directed sun-beams
Will shine around, and then,
Warm'd by its genial influence,
They'll vegetate again.

My subject, how it brightens!
Be fired, my soul, anew,
In numbers sweet as heaven,
The ope'ning theme pursue.

Farewell, my sinful murmurs.
Farewell, my sighs and tears;
Farewell, thou night of horror,
The morn of joy appears!

The beams of heavenly goodness,
How bright they shine around,
A sea of living pleasure,
Where all my griefs are drown'd!

From this glad hour, for ever,
Be gratitude my song;
My moments, fraught with transport,
Shall joyful dance along.

The mercy of my Saviour,
What angel tongue can tell,
It blazes thro' creation,
And cheers the night of hell!

Around his throne in glory
It wakes immortal song,
And rolls its boundless ocean
Eternity along.

In all my wand'rings from Him,
This mercy held me up,
And in my hours of sorrow
Pour'd nectar in my cup.

And when that stingless pleasure
Which satisfies the mind,
Thro' devious paths forbidden,
I'd rov'd in vain to find;

His Spirit linger'd round me,
And prompted my return,
And with a sense of pardon
Inspir'd my heart to burn.

O! love, all thought transcending!
Love, boundless as the sea!
Encircling every creature,
Throughout eternity!

On this I'll dwell for ever,
Nor sigh for freedom more—
My heart, my tongue—all nature,
This boundless love adore!

My heart shall be a temple
Of never ceasing praise,
And ev'ry morn and evening
Repeat the gladsome lays.

O! thou great Source of being,
In whom alone I live,
Accept my heart; tho' sinful,
'Tis all a wretch can give.

Forgive the plaintive numbers,
Which held my harp so long,
And bless the resignation
Which crowns my gloomy song.

DESCRIPTION OF HEAVEN BY AN INHABITANT OF A DUNGEON.

On gloomy themes let others dwell,
And sing the miseries of hell;
My cheerful muse prefers to paint
The future glories of the saint.
High on a mount of purest light,
To which the clearest noon is night,
Whose top no angel wing can soar,
Nor keen-eyed seraph glance explore.—

Above the reach of rolling spheres,
Which mark our little circling years,
In awful grandeur, reigns our God,
And rules creation with his rod.
Twelve legion angels, throned around,
His lofty praise, in thunder sound,
And stooping from their jewelled seat,
Cast down their honors at his feet.

These, ever ready to fulfil
The dictates of his sovereign will,
Are winged for flight, and, at his voice,
To execute his word, rejoice.
In dignity above the rest,
With diamond mail and flaming crest,
The Angel of his presence stands,
To execute his high commands.

Round, farther than from central light
To where the comets end their flight,
In ever blooming beauty lies,
The glorious Eden of the skies.
There swell huge Alps, uncapped with snow;
Through fertile realms broad Danubes flow;
And cheerful brook meandering twines
Around celestial Apennines.

There hills of emerald are seen,
And damask vales, that smile between,
And all the beauties of the sky
In elegant assemblage lie.
There too the chrystal mirror lake,
By zephyrs kissed, in every wake,
Presents to pleased angelic eyes
Reflected scenes of earth and skies.

There, on a towering height, sublime,
The Lebanon of heavenly clime,
Where pleasure lives, where rapture glows,
The cedar spreads its princely boughs.
There fragrant Carmel's flowery grove,
Where seraphs tune their harps of love,
On playful breeze diffuses round,
Its spicy breath and tuneful sound.

There Sharon's rose, without a thorn,
Serenely bright with gems of morn,
On verdant tree majestic towers,
And smiling reigns, the queen of flowers.
Down by a sweetly-flowing rill,
Where pure celestial dews distil,
The lilies, clothed with beauty, rise,
And bloom beneath cerulean skies.

There, raining nectar from its boughs,
The tree of life immortal grows;
And streams of bliss, 'mid holy song,
Roll their mellifluent waves along.
No winter's frost or winter's snow—
No blight these scenes of beauty know;
No change revolving seasons bring,
For all is one eternal spring.

O! how unlike this world below,
Where all is blight, and death, and wo!
Where night, dark night, eternal reigns,
And grief in every house complains!
There, far above created height,
Reigns the dear Son of God's delight;
A man of sorrows once—but now
A God to whom archangels bow.

A shoreless sea of heavenly beams
Around his sacred person gleams;
By merit raised, by virtue tried,
Exalted at his Father's side.
An emerald bow his head adorns,
That blessed head once crowned with thorns!
His feet like burning gold; his face
A sun of glory and of grace.

Robes whiter than unfallen snow
Down to his feet divinely flow,
Unstained with blood.—Before him now
No murderous priests reviling bow.
Around his waist a golden zone
Proclaims his title to the throne;
And in his hands, with sceptre graced,
The keys of death and hell are placed.

There dwell creation's elder sons,
Those high, those blessed, those holy ones,
Who, when this earth from chaos rolled,
Exulting struck their harps of gold.
In their exalted spheres, divine,
Like suns they move, like suns they shine;
And other lights, though glorious, seem
Lost in the radiance of their beam.

Nearest the sacred throne they sing,
And strike the sweetest, loudest string;
Thus eminent above the rest,
They lead the concert of the blessed.
There dwell the ransomed of the Lord,
Who loved to keep his holy word;
Washed in his blood from every stain,
With him eternally they reign.

They loved him here, and all his ways,
They loved to speak his name in praise,
They loved to do his righteous will,
And all his purposes fulfil.
And now, supremely blest above,
Encircled in his arms of love,
He wipes the tear from every face,
And crowns the children of his grace.

All grief is past, they sigh no more,
But live to worship and adore;
Around that blissful world they rove,
Amid the smiles of deathless love.
Roll on, Eternity, thy years,
Around the vast celestial spheres!
Thou bringst no change but new delight,
And scenes of joy forever bright.

AN APPEAL TO CHRISTIANS IN BEHALF OF STATE PRISONERS.

(Extract from a Sermon.)

"Come over into Macedonia and help us."

Acts xvi. 9.

"Glorious displays of heavenly mercy to lost and perishing mankind, and a missionary spirit, warm and pure as the altar from which it descended, and circumscribed in its holy purposes only by the broad limits of creation, are the great and delightful landmarks of the present age. The apocalyptic angel that was seen flying through the midst of heaven, having the Everlasting Gospel to preach to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people, is still spreading his golden wings, and proclaiming with a loud voice, "Fear God and give glory to Him, and worship Him who made heaven and earth." The sacred era of the apostles has again dawned upon the earth, and the servants of Christ are beginning to feel the broad import of their commission to "go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature." Impelled by its sacred influence, they have gone out by hundreds—they are wafted by every wind of heaven; they are borne on the waves of every sea, ocean, and river; and their foot-prints are visible in the dust and snow drifts of every clime. A light that gladdens the earth and shines to heaven, denotes the windings of their pilgrimage, and the freshness and beauty of Paradise in the midst of the desert, point out the places of their abode. Every where is verified to them the promise of their ascended Lord, "Lo I am with you always even unto the end of the world;" and even "devils are subject to them through his name." O! in what felicitous times are we permitted to live! Surely an undevout reader of missionary annals must be mad indeed. How truly may what Nicodemus said to Christ be applied to the whole noiseless army of missionary champions; "No man can do these" wonders, "which" they do, "except God be with him." And by what an irresistible inference does the success of modern missionaries associate both their cause and their labours with the approbation of heaven. From the midst of that golden cloud which embosoms the sacred throne, and softens the brightness of the Eternal to created vision, I hear a voice to these faithful friends of the Almighty, saying—"Servants of God! well done!" What a strong inducement is this to the friends of missions, to persevere in this celestial enterprise with redoubled efforts and increasing expectations: and how certain is it, that in due season they will reap, if they faint not.

The field of missionary labour is the world, and every part of it must be cultivated. In many places, harvests, broad and rich, are seen by those myriads of seraphs, who, in ministering to the heirs of salvation, are constantly passing and repassing from heaven to earth. But by far the greater part of this field is still barren and untouched by any culturing hand, and its famishing and dying inhabitants are constantly sending out to christian communities the Macedonian cry of—"Come and help us;" and this cry, like an angel's voice, has sunken deep into many hearts, and inspired them with a sympathetic interest which cannot die till its object is accomplished. I congratulate the world that such an interest has been excited. It promises much; it awakens the most delightful hopes; and it is not to divide, but to enlarge it, that I appear before this respected assembly, as a messenger from the most dark and hopeless part of this field of blight and desolation, to say to you, in behalf of my brethren; "Come and help us also." The place from which I have come is a prison, and prisoners are my brethren, whose cause I am going to plead.

In calling your attention to these all-gloomy places, and to these neglected sinners, may I not be permitted to say, that prisons and prisoners are inseparably interwoven with the history and doctrines of the gospel. The Captain of our salvation, though Lord of all, was once a prisoner at Pilate's bar; and though all-innocent, was condemned by Herod as a criminal, and expired on a cross. Of this same Being it is declared that he despiseth none of his prisoners, but looseth them, and by the blood of the covenant, sendeth them out of the pit wherein is no water. By his spirit he preached through Zechariah to those captives, who hung their harps on the willows and wept at the recollection of Zion, this affecting but cheering sermon—"Turn ye, turn ye to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope." In the same spirit he also went and "preached to the spirits in prison, which sometime were disobedient." In fine, benevolence to the lost is the spirit of Jesus, and good-will to mankind irrespectively, is the genius of his gospel. Moved then by the inspiration of Christ and his doctrines, I cheerfully and confidently anticipate the interested attention of all christians, while I paint the moral and spiritual dearth of our State Prisons, and plead with you to send thither the fertilizing streams of eternal life; nor will I fear, for a moment, that there is in this congregation, either a Sanballat or a Tobiah, to be exceedingly grieved that a man is come, to seek the welfare of captives.

I bring this subject, my Christian Friends, before you, and I urge it upon your attention, because it is by a community of which you form a valuable part, that the work must be done, if done at all. I bring it before christians, exclusively, before the church of Christ which he purchased with his own blood; it is before you that I roll the claims of your perishing fellow mortals; and, identifying myself with them, I say to you on their behalf, "Come and help us." Where else under heaven can we look but to you? Who will pity us, if you will not? Who will bring us the messages of salvation, if you refuse? We ask not for liberty nor earthly comforts; we are contented with our homely meals and our beds of straw; with these glooms, these dungeons, and these fetters; but we want that freedom with which Christ makes free; we want to feel the warming beams of the Sun of Righteousness, and eat the bread and drink the water of eternal life. Such is the voice which is this moment falling on your ears from the deep and gloomy recesses of the prison-house, and permit me to urge your immediate attention to it from the following considerations:

1. Should your pious labors be blessed to the reformation of any part of these offenders, not only will they become happy in the enjoyment of virtue and religion, but a very great service will also be rendered to society.

Let it never be forgotten a moment, that though community is in no immediate danger from them now, however vicious, the time is coming when it may be. They are not always to remain within those walls which prevent their annoying mankind by their crimes; their sentences are to expire, and then, virtuous or vicious, society must admit them again within its circle. Does not, then, the future peace and safety of society require their reformation?—Should they be sent abroad with hearts unsubdued and rankling with iniquity, what society, family, or individual would be secure? Like fiery serpents, they would scatter dismay where they fly and death where they repose. And from the very nature of vice, whose grasp is to accumulation, if they are not brought to reform by the means and principles of the gospel, they will be more hardened and desperate than ever. I say "unless brought to reform by the means and principles of the gospel." A mere moral reform in such subjects is not to be hoped for. They have already demonstrated the insufficiency of mere moral restraints to keep them from the commission of crime.—Nothing but the solemn motives which enforce the duties of religion, can restrain them now. Their consciences have "swung from their moorings;" and they must be brought back and chained to the throne of God, before they who have been so long accustomed to do evil, will learn to do well. Religion, the holy religion of Jesus Christ, then, with the tremendous sanctions which it draws from the world to come, is the only means left by which these prodigals may be reclaimed. And should you be the means of planting this religion in their hearts, you will not only save their souls from death, but you will cause a wave of joy to roll more extensively wide than you have conceived. O! how many weeping parents and brothers, and wives and children, would feel the happy effect of your pious labors, and rise up and call you blessed. And these sons of crime themselves, renovated in their moral natures, by those redeeming principles which you will have instrumentally brought home to their breasts, will, when released from their dungeons, go out among christians and unbelievers, rejoicing the former by declaring what God has done for their souls, and inspiring with solemn and heavenly contemplations the latter, by testifying to the faithfulness of the saying, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save the chief of sinners. Instead of scattering dread and poisoning the healthful streams of society, they will move along in the pleasing round of christian duties, living witnesses of the power of divine grace, and examples of the excellency and loveliness of the Christian Religion. Their houses will be houses of prayer; their evenings will be spent in reading and meditation, and their days in honest industry; and their places in the Temple of God will never be vacant. O! what a combination of powerful motives are here presented before you, to draw out the pious efforts of christians in behalf of prisoners; the motives of humanity, patriotism, and religion—a threefold cord; and may God forbid that it should ever be broken, or unfastened from your minds, until you follow the example of Howard, and bless with all the ordinances of the gospel, the neglected and perishing inhabitants of our State Prisons.

2. I would also urge you to listen to the cry of the captives from the consideration, that they are human beings, and equally susceptible with others of all the improvements and pleasures of virtue and piety, on the one hand, and of all the degradation and misery of vice, on the other.

No matter how far they may have wandered in the mazes of crime; no matter how deep they may have sunken into the horrible pit and miry clay of moral pollution; no matter how closely round them they may have drawn the sable pall of spiritual death; they are still within the compass of that holy and saving influence, which can reclaim, elevate, and quicken, the most hopeless of the human race. It is a blasphemous libel upon the grace of God to exclude, either speculatively or practically, from its redeeming power, any part of mankind on account of their superior sinfulness; for the faithful saying, which is worthy of all acceptation, is, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save the very chief of sinners. Did he not confer the boon of pardon and salvation on a dying thief? Was not one of his most faithful friends, while he abode on earth, she out of whom he had cast seven devils? And among the bright stars of heaven which rose from earthly climes, does not the eye of faith dwell with inexpressible delight on Menasseh, Bunyan, Gardener, and Rochester? Who then dares to point to any individuals, or to any class of fallen man and say—There is no hope in their case? Remember that he who came to seek and to save that which was lost, was also commissioned to say to the prisoners, "Go forth," and to them that sit in darkness, "Show yourselves"; to preach "deliverance to the captives," and the "opening of the prison to them that are bound;" to lead "captivity captive," and receive gifts even for "the rebellious."

In the broad commission which every minister of Jesus Christ receives, there is no limitation, no part of mankind are excluded; within the whole world and the whole creation, there is not a rational being to whom the Lord Jesus has not, with sovereign authority, and in the most plain and energetic terms commanded his gospel to be preached. And are not State Prisons within the whole world? and are not their neglected and despised inmates included in the whole creation? From the burning equator to the frozen poles, and from the rising to the going down of the sun, the heralds of salvation are moving in every direction. Burning Africa and icy Greenland, the east and the west, "the void waste and the city full," have all heard the proclamation of mercy, and the isles of the sea have received the law. The blinded Jew and the bigoted Mahommedan, have alike, through the instrumentality of missionaries, seen the light of truth, and upon them the glory of the Lord has risen. And this same light which has shone through and dispelled the gloom of heathenism, which has played around the islands of the ocean, and thrown a ray of promise across the Mahommedan and Papal apostasies, has also found its way through prisons, and left a cheering brightness on the grates of a cell. Unchecked in its progress, and unbounded in its ample range, selecting no particular field as more hopeful, nor avoiding any as more forbidding than another, the grace of God, like a mighty angel, flies across the chaos of this world in the means appointed by heaven, and finds mankind every where, and under every variety of circumstance and condition, equally and perfectly under its control. Differing indeed in their mental and moral habits and associations, some possessing more lovely traits of character than others, and some distancing the rest in the race of crime; some deep read in all the mysteries of human science, and some so near the level of the brute as to render their humanity a question; mankind are, notwithstanding these complexional varieties, alike susceptible of the degrading and painful influences of vice, on the one hand, and, on the other, of the ennobling and heaven-imparting power of virtue and truth. I care not whether the individual treads the scorching sands of Arabia, or shivers amid the drifting snow and icebound streams of Lapland; whether he sends up the Indian cry to the Great Spirit from the solitude of our western wilds, or kneels an enthusiastic worshipper at the car of Juggernaut; whether his mind is as rude as the uncultivated desert, or so enlarged by education that all the luminaries of literature and philosophy are revolving there, like the sun, moon and stars, in the firmament of heaven; whether his garments are rags, or purple and fine linen; whether his companions are dogs, or princes; whether his home is a dungeon, or a palace; he is still a man, possessing the same sensibilities, the same instinctive dread of misery and desires for happiness, the same longings after immortality and delight in truth, which belong alike to the degenerate family of fallen Adam.

This proposition is abundantly proved by the results of that sublime and stupendous enterprise, which the spirit of missions has so gloriously struck out, and is so successfully carrying forward, and which looks with such a firmly founded and well built confidence to the conversion of the whole world. I rejoice in all that has been done under the influence of this benevolent spirit, and I sympathize with the friends of missions in those brighter hopes and more inspiring anticipations, which contemplate a redeemed universe around the throne of heaven. My soul dwells, with expanding joy, on the lovely Edens, which the servants of the Most High have caused to bloom and smile amidst the blight and barrenness of heathen lands. I hear the songs of salvation sounding in the desert, and I bless the equal Lord of all his creatures for the means by which such praises have been called forth. I am glad that I see so much accomplished, and it is this pleasure that inspires me with such impatient anxiety to see the glorious work advancing. It is because I have seen the effect of the word of God on heathen minds, that I want to have it preached in our prisons. It is because I have seen streams gush out in the desert, that I desire to see the waters of life carried into the cells of captives. It is because these wonders of mercy have been accomplished by appointed means, that I wish to see these means operating in our prisons. It is because these means have never been used in vain, that I confidently associate with them the salvation of these servants of sin. And may I not add, that as God works only by means, and in this department of His operation, only by such means as are specified in his word, I despair of seeing any great or lasting good effected in our prisons, till I see these means in employment.

3. Another consideration by which I would urge you to attend to the call of the captives, is, that they are as perfectly alive to the influence of religious motives as any other part of unregenerate mankind, and to one class of these motives, much more so.

I am well aware that to the eye of unsanctified calculation, these giants of crime, these startling monuments of pre-eminent depravity and divine forbearance, present obstacles to the universal conquest of truth, and sometimes even faith itself becomes infidel. But remember that the work is God's, and is any thing too hard for an almighty arm to accomplish? With equal ease He guides the zephyr, and the lightning's furious bolt; sustains a sparrow and upholds the sun. If He wills, who or what can hinder? He sends forth His Spirit, and the boldest and most determined opposition prostrates like the reed before the tempest, or a bramble before an avalanche, and the tiger becomes a lamb in the converted apostle of the gentiles. If my chief dependence for the reformation of these far-gone offenders was turning on the pivot of mere human agency, my brightest hopes would darken midnight, and the combined force of every possible motive to action, would relax before the hopelessness of the enterprise; but when an omnipotent hand is at work, would not fear or doubt be equally blasphemous and absurd? There must, indeed, be Pauls to plant, and Apolloses to water, but God alone can give the increase; and as under his gracious providence, the rock becomes a pool, and barrenness is turned into fertility, I most confidently anticipate the perfect and glorious accomplishment of His revealed purpose, to give to the Son 'the heathen for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession;' to 'deliver the lawful captives and take the prey from the mighty.' The assertion, therefore, which has been so frequently made, that 'the minds of prisoners are hardened beyond the power of religious susceptibilities,' I am fully prepared to deny; and not merely from the force of this reasoning, but from my own personal knowledge and experience. This wide world presents no where more solemn and attentive listeners to the preaching of the gospel, than are always found in our State Prisons. For the truth of this assertion, I appeal to every servant of God who has had the pleasure of addressing that libelled and neglected part of erring mankind. Indeed it would be very strange were it otherwise, for the very circumstances under which they are addressed, irresistibly dispose their minds to attend, with serious and affecting interest, to the enunciations of religious truth. Their souls are bleeding with the painfulness of a separation from their nearest and dearest friends—their parents, their brothers and sisters, their wives and children—and from the sunshine and all the concomitant blessings of liberty. Their own sad experience teaches them, better than a thousand arguments, the truth of that Book which declares, that the wicked shall not go unpunished, and that the way of transgressors is hard. Having witnessed one judgment day, and feeling the awful and death-like consequences of being condemned there, they think, with trembling, of the great Judgment day of all mankind, and of the more awful consequences of condemnation then. And where in the universe can they behold a more true and dreadful representation of the 'house of wo and pain,' than is constantly before their eyes? To one class of religious motives, then, they must be peculiarly sensitive—the terrors of the Lord must make them afraid. They cannot resist them. Feeling as they must, and surrounded as they are, the truths of God come home to their consciences, emphasized by their own experience, and they might as well change their dungeon into a palace, and exchange their misery for the bliss of cherubs, as to resist these sacred thunders of the Eternal, thus awfully sounded in their ears. With me this is neither idle declamation nor uncertain theory, for I speak from observation and experience, declaring only what I have seen and felt; and could you associate my observation and experience with your own, you would believe my testimony. But you need not depend either on my declarations or reasonings on this subject; I am willing to throw the question into the scale of acknowledged facts. Facts cannot lie, and we will view our subject in the light of those connected with the ministry of Christ and his apostles. As he went about doing good, who followed most cheerfully in his train? Publicans and sinners. Who were the most remarkable subjects of his saving power? Mary Magdalene, whom he had dispossessed of seven devils, and a hardened criminal expiring on a gibbet. Why was he styled the friend of sinners? why did he declare the object of his mission to be to call sinners to repentance? and why did he rebuke the grumblers at his associating with those who were reputed the lowest and vilest of the human race, by saying, 'The whole need not a physician but they that are sick?' Because sinners, as they most need, so they most feel their need of, and most cordially embrace the salvation of the gospel. And who were the first to espouse the cause of Christ, after his resurrection? They whose hearts had festered with malice, whose hands were red with innocent blood—those very men who had been the betrayers and murderers of the Just and Holy One. One fact more and I shall have done with this topic. Who is that furious and determined individual, commissioned by the chief priests, and, Jehu like, speeding his way to Damascus? The same dark and wicked spirit who had assisted in the murder of Stephen, who had thirsted for the blood of the saints, and had dragged many of them to prison. The same spirit, too, who became a chosen vessel of the Lord to bear his name to the gentiles, and build up the faith which he had labored to demolish, and who, in the most affecting and solemn terms declared himself to have been the chief of sinners.

But after all my reasoning and all my appeals on this subject, there is one cold and sullen fact, which rises like a winter-cloud over my mind, and blasts all my hopes of success while it remains. It is this. The hapless and wretched community for which i am pleading, is completely exiled from the sympathies of mankind.—They are thought of indeed, but it is only to be despised, and they are spoken of only to be cursed. How truly may they say; 'No one cares for our souls.' This is a fact which cannot be successfully contradicted; but whether it is right or not, judge ye. How much of christianity it evinces let every one's conscience determine. One thing is certain, it is not the spirit of God, for He commended His love towards sinners by giving His Son to be our Saviour. Neither is it the spirit of Christ, for when we were without strength, in due time he died for the ungodly. Equally distinct is it from the spirit of angels, for they rejoice in the presence of God when one sinner repents. Nor has it any fellowship with the spirit of christians, for they are glad when they see the grace of God magnified in the reformation of even the most abandoned. It is also spurned away by the spirit of philanthropy, for the prince of philanthropists identified his glorious fame with the prisons of Europe. Hearken then ye whose sympathies pass by the cells of merited suffering, like the priest and the Levite, on the other side, the misery which you disdain to heed and the sufferers whom you associate only with infamy, draw around them the liveliest sympathies, and the deepest interest of the whole universe of sanctified spirits, from the mere lover of his species, up through christians and angels, to the merciful Redeemer and compassionate Father of all. O! then be entreated to bring your cold and limited sympathies to the fountain of Jesus' blood, and learn to pity the sinner while you hate his sins. Let the sighing of the prisoners come into the secret abode of your hearts, and compassionate those whose hope is despair. If you continue to resist that voice which might pierce the tomb, and rouse the dead into benevolent actions for the recovery of the lost, you will evince that you have wandered as far from the sympathies of unperverted humanity, as have the objects of your contempt from righteousness; and my only hope of their reformation will depend on your previous return to that holy sanctuary of purified feeling, from which you have so wofully departed. Then, warmed with the pure and sacred glow of heaven's own altar, you will be moved by the groaning of the captives, and either carry or send them the balm which is in Gilead, and direct them to the Physician who is there."

CONCLUSION.

My work is done, and I am happy. The task which I have now finished is of that unpleasant kind which few human beings have ever voluntarily undertaken. It has led me through wide fields of blight, in which scarcely a green thing has been left to smile. My path has been amidst fragments of moral ruin, where serpents of corruption have lurked and hissed. My canopy has been the beclouded past in which the sun, moon, or stars are seldom seen. I have heard the voice of man, but it has been in expressions of angry authority, or of uncompassionated distress. I have seen "the human face divine," but it was either transformed into cruelty, and sullen with a spirit of revenge, or distorted with agony and fixed in despair. I have shivered under the frost of death, and contemplated a thousand awful epitaphs on the grave stones of the soul.

Of the volume which I am now bringing to a close, I can say in the presence of my Creator, that I designed it as a sacrifice to benevolence; and I have labored to render it an acceptable one. I have plead the cause of the suffering sinner. I have opened to view his dungeon; pointed to his fetters—his bleeding back—his neglected sickness—his unheeded death. I have recorded facts; have argued from the principles of humanity and religion; have plead, entreated, exhorted, and prayed with christians to think of the captive, and cheer his gloomy cell with the light of the gospel. What more can I do? Nothing; and whatever may be the future sufferings of my brethren in prison, I am innocent.

In the course of the volume I have advanced the following opinions.—In the present state of society, Penitentiaries cannot be very useful as means of reformation.—Cruel discipline will harden the sufferer, and nothing but goodness can ever win back a sinner to the love and practice of virtue.—Prisoners are criminally neglected by christians.—The loss of character is a calamity, from which the universal sentiment of mankind admits of no redemption.—The conduct of christians towards prisoners and repentant sinners, is directly opposed to the law of God and the principles of their profession. These and other truths, equally plain and important, are to be found scattered through the book, and I submit them to the religious consideration of all concerned.

In speaking of the "Prison Discipline Society," I have used pointed language. Convinced that it is an un-benevolent society, laboring, conscientiously, no doubt, to effect the good of community, but in a way that will certainly multiply the evils it is aiming to cure, I could not use any other than emphatic terms to express my disapprobation of its measures. Already has it plunged the subjects of its discipline into the gulf of a most horrid despotism, and should it go successfully onward, its measures will spread over and carry through all our penitentiaries, the unbroken gloom and unregarded misery of the worst prisons in Europe.

In relation to christians and ministers, I have used language that is capable of being perverted. I revere the christian who acts on the pure principles of his profession, and such is an exception from the remarks, which I wish to have applied to mere professors. I have found many real christians during my intercourse with society, who have cheered me in the house of my pilgrimage, and to them my gratitude is bound by the strongest ties. And in the ministry there are many whom I respect and love, and had all been such, the remarks which I have applied to some of that profession would have been quite superfluous and unmerited.

A remark which I have made in relation to Rev. E. K. A. may, if not explained, be misunderstood. I meant not to vote with public opinion against that suffering individual, but simply to state the fact, that community had decided against him, with a view to illustrate an inconsistency in the conduct of the persons under consideration. Mr. A. has had a fair trial, and the jury of the country has cleared him. With that verdict I am satisfied; and I consider that he is injured, and the dignity of the laws insulted, by the attitude of the public, and the conduct of many journals of the day. If the decision of a high court is not final, where is the security of any man who happens to be accused? Christianity is wounded by the conduct of Mr. A's opposers, and they would feel the full force of their actions were they in his place. Whether Mr. A. is guilty or not, I am silent. God knows.