DEDICATION.
To the
Railroad Officials who have so generously and cheerfully provided
me transportation; their EMPLOYEES, whose kindness has so many
times lightened the weariness of my journeys; the State and
Prison officials, who have heartily welcomed me and set
before me open doors; the THOUSANDS OF PRISONERS AND
OTHERS who have shown by word and deed their appreciation
of my efforts to help them to a better life; to the
many who have in any way ministered to my necessities
or offered an encouraging word by the way,
and to my SPIRITUAL CHILDREN, these pages are
cheerfully inscribed by
The Author.
THE HARVEST TIME.
The seed I have scattered in springtime with weeping, And watered with tears and with dews from on high, Another may shout while the harvester's reaping, Shall gather my grain in the sweet by and by.
Chorus—
Over and over, yes, deeper and deeper, My heart is pierced through with life's sorrowing cry, But the tears of the sower and the songs of the reaper Shall mingle together in joy by and by; By and by, by and by, by and by, by and by, Yes the tears of the sower and the songs of the reaper Shall mingle together in joy by and by.
Another may reap what in springtime I've planted, Another rejoice in the fruit of my pain, Not knowing my tears when in summer I fainted, While toiling, sad-hearted, in sunshine and rain.
The thorns will have choked and the summer sun blasted The most of the seed which in springtime I've sown, But the Lord who has watched while my weary toil lasted Will give me a harvest for what I have done.
—W. A. Spencer