Oh, that wife! may God's own blessing Rest upon her loyal head; Though he's caused her many a heartache, She would love him were he dead.
Then with all these sacred memories Welling in these hearts of ours, Who in all this land of sunshine Could forbid this gift of flowers?
Bring the flowers with sweetest perfume, This is flower mission day; Some forlorn, discouraged prisoner, "You may rescue, you may save."
Blest the home that knows no sorrow, Blest that wife, whose tears are joy, Blest that mother who in old age, Can lean upon her darling boy.
Men, look up, the clouds have gathered, Some of them are silver-lined; There's a day when all creation Will be marshalled into line.
When these prison walls are sundered; When the grave gives up its dead, All may march the streets of Heaven Who by Jesus Christ are led.
LINES BY A PRISONER TO HIS WIFE.
These lines were handed me by the author. I insert them here because of their clear testimony to the saving grace of God and the love they manifest for wife and children:
Dearest wife, you know I love thee,
Deep as yonder sky;
Know that love can never fade,
Affection never die.
Though in prison I am cast,
And cannot now return,
Yet on thee my love reclines,
For thee my heart will burn.