Germantown, May 16, 1890.
Dear Sister: Your letter of February 17th duly received, and glad to hear from you. But, sister, I am so glad to have some Christian friend to write to me in a place of temptation and trouble. I know that Jesus is my rock and my salvation and a shelter in a storm. Jesus is with me right now. He is waiting for us every day and hour. O, how many will there be that will call on Christ on that day, when the book of the Lord will be opened, with the seven seals, and who will be able to open the seals? No one is able to open it but the Lamb. Sister, this is my idea and opinion about that Day: There will be a great big scale, with a cross beam and Satan will be on one side of it and the people of all trades will be weighed, and if Christ the Son of God and our Redeemer is not there to balance them, what will become of them? Won't they be thrown down in hell?
Hoping and trusting faithfully that there be many of the poor prisoners among the hundred and forty and four thousand with the Lamb on Mount Zion, with the Father's name written in their foreheads and the harpers will be harping with their harps and singing the new song which no man could learn, but the hundred and forty and four thousand which were redeemed from the earth. O, what a day that will be! O that song is so true. O sinner give your heart to God and you shall have a new hiding place that day. O the rocks in the mountain shall all fade away and you shall have a new hiding place that day. "O sinner turn, why will ye die? God in mercy asks you why."
O, I am so happy tonight!
Your brother,
C. S.
Germantown, Ark., Dec. 18, 1890.
Dear Sister: Your kind words gladly received, and may God bless you and give you strength in your undertakings.
Sister, forgive those wicked men who put you in prison for preaching the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, for He, the Lord, said: "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do," and Silas and Paul in prison sang praises to the Lord our God and He delivered them from the prison in which they lay, and the jailor got saved.
Oh! my dear sister, I trust and pray to the Lord that we could safely say with Robert McChane, the ascended minister of Scotland, who, seated on the banks of Galilee's Lake, wrote, in his last sick days, and just before he crossed the Jordan (not the Jordan that empties into the Lake of Gallilee, but the Jordan that empties into the "sea of glass mingled with fire"), these sweet words, fit to be played by human fingers on strings of earthly lute, or by angelic fingers on seraphic harps:
"It is not that the mild gazelle Comes down to drink thy tide, But He that was pierced to save from hell, Oft wandered by thy side. Graceful around thee the mountains meet Thou calm, reposing sea; But, ah! far more, the beautiful feet Of Jesus walked o'er thee. O Saviour! gone to God's right hand, Yet the same Saviour still, Graved on thy heart is this lovely strand And every fragrant hill."
O! is it not good to be with one's Lord and to think how sweet He says in his Book of Books: "I am the way," and in danger He speaks again: "Fear not, it is I."
The Lord is with me for I do not have to work in the ranks any more, and by His help I am assistant postmaster of this place.
Until we leave, and that time will be Christmas, address your next letter to Little Rock.
That you may save many souls from everlasting torture is my prayer every hour. My love to the poor sinful prisoners and to you, my dear sister in Christ.
A happy Christmas, and may God bless you to live and see many more.
I will sing now:
"I was once far away from the Saviour" and
"When Jesus shall gather the nations before Him at last to
appear."Oh! I am so happy! Goodnight,
Ever,
S.
"I was once far away from the Saviour" and
"When Jesus shall gather the nations before Him at last to
appear."
Wichita, Kansas.
Dear Sister:
This is to acknowledge yours of the 15th inst., and was glad to hear that you have received my letter. Well, sister, we have our regular meeting every Sunday, and I will never cease praying to the Lord that He may help me to live my life, and that I can say, like our great Brother said, that no man can measure the glories which God has revealed to us. Glory to Thee, O God, glory to Thee! * * *
It is said that religionists make too much of the humanity of Christ. I respond that they make too little. If some doctor or surgeon of His day, standing under the cross, had caught one drop of the blood on his hands and analyzed it, it would have been found to have the same plasma, the same disk, the same fiber, the same albumen. It was unmistakably human blood. It is a man that hangs there. His bones are of the same material as ours. His nerves are as sensitive as ours. If it were an angel being despoiled, I would not feel it so much, for it belongs to a different being. But my Saviour is a man and my whole sympathy is aroused. Jesus our King is dying. Let couriers carry the swift dispatch. His pains are worse; He is breathing a last groan; through his body quivers the last anguish. The King is dying; the King is dead! His royal blood is shed.
I can imagine something of how the spikes felt; of how the temples burned; what deathly sickness seized His heart; of how mountain and city and mob swam away from His dying vision; something of that cry for help that makes the blood of all ages curdle with horror: "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" * * *
O! Jerusalem, my happy home, When shall I come to thee; When shall my sorrows have an end? Thy joys, when shall I see? Jerusalem, my happy home, Would God that I were there! Would God my tears were at an end, Thy joys, that I might share.
I am so glad that I can write to you. I never will cease praying for you.
I remain, your brother.
C. H.
Washington County Jail.
Greenville, Miss., Jan. 29, 1889.My Dear Sisters:
I cannot express my feelings when I read your kind letters. They make me feel as though you were still at my prison door. I know I am not the same boy that came to prison. I feel much better in every way. I read my Bible instead of novels, and find more pleasure in it.
I expect to get out of prison soon, and when I do I want to write you a long letter. Mr. McL. was to see me to-day, and read your letters. He said he would also write you to-day. There is a great change in him since you were here.
All the boys send love. Direct me as before, care Geo. S. If I get out I will work for him here. I am, as ever,
Your true friend and brother,
J. F. D.
Penitentiary at Yuma, Ariz., May 19, 1889.
Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.
Dear Friend: Your kind letter, written from Los Angeles, Cal., has been received, after much delay. We are all glad to hear from you, and thank you very much for your kind remembrance and the good advice given to us in your letter, and when you spoke to us here in the prison. Most all the boys hold you in kind remembrance and often express their wishes to see you and hear you talk again, and I sincerely hope it will be convenient for you to call and see us in the near future. The short visit you paid us awakened earnest thought in a number of the boys, and I am confident a few more such visits would result in much good to many of the inmates of this institution.
Asking your prayers, I remain,
Respectfully,
J. E. W.