Whilst I recall these precious times, so many instances of special seasons of prayer, special answers, personal kindnesses, and loving considerations come before my vision that I more than ever desire to bow humbly before the wonderful heavenly Father in thanksgiving and praise for graciously permitting so many, many of his loved ones to cheer, advise, and help me; also for enabling me to look past the sinful exterior and to see, by faith, the priceless souls of humanity, souls that are starving and perishing for lack of proper nurture.
And I am still praying for more strength, more grace, more wisdom, more love, to aid me and his other chosen missionaries in the winning of souls and the rescuing of the perishing, for I do not want to go into his heavenly kingdom empty-handed. Do you?
CHAPTER XX.
JOE'S STORY.
In giving you Joe's story, I realize that I am taking considerable liberty, having not asked his permission, but I am confident of his willingness because of the lesson of warning to other boys—and they are so many—whose early lives correspond to his. I am one of Joe's interested friends. I have frequently visited him in the prison adjacent to Folsom, near Sacramento, Cal., and have learned from Warden Reilly that he is a model prisoner. I am hoping, and praying that, if it be the will of God, he will soon be out on parole.
Whilst he was detained in the Santa Cruz jail awaiting a rehearing of his case, it was frequently my privilege to visit that place through the week and, with my little autoharp for accompaniment, to sing for the prisoners. One afternoon, whilst I was sitting by the bars in front of Joe's cell, and just following that blessed song, "Tell Mother I'll Be There," he broke into agonizing sobs and tears, and for a long while could not control himself as he lay prostrate face downward on the cold stone floor. I waited and prayed, my very soul in agony for his, as I began to appreciate and realize his awful situation. Stretching forth my hands through those iron bars, I reverently placed them on his head, and with all my heart implored our Lord for comfort, mercy, and pardon for the soul of this stricken young man, who that morning had learned that the sentence already pronounced at a former trial had been confirmed and that it was immediately to go into effect. There was no escaping his fate now.
I was permitted, by the kind-hearted sheriff, to spend hours with Joe on that occasion. When his grief had somewhat spent itself, this is what he said:
"O Mother Roberts, Mother Roberts! if I only could recall the past! If
I only could!
"I started in wrong from the time I can remember. Lots of naughty little things I would do even when I was quite a small shaver. Some things I did the folks would think smart and cute. They would laugh and brag of me to the neighbors, right in my heating, too, and that's where they made a mistake; for, young as I was, it only made me bolder, also saucy.
"Some of the youngsters in our neighborhood were awful. I do believe they were born bad; anyhow, I knew they swore, and so did some of their parents. They gave them many a cuffing, but they didn't care, only swore worse than ever. My folks used to forbid me to go near them, and when any of them came into our yard, used to say, You go right home; I don't want you here. Joe can't play with you.' But Joe did, and that's the reason Joe has to suffer now." …