Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave;
Weep o'er the erring one, lift up the fallen,
Tell them of Jesus the mighty to save.

You can't keep back the tears as you listen, and this is not to be
wondered at.

"Sister Burton, we will now listen to your reading of the fifty-fifth
chapter of Isaiah."

"Sister Roberts, I see you have your autoharp with you. Please favor us
with one of your God-sent songs."

"Nearer, Still Nearer."

The prisoners sing refrain twice over with me and then request a
repetition. It is inspiring to hear them, it surely is.

"We will now spend a few minutes in testimony. Who will be the first to
witness for Jesus this morning?"

Three or four are on their feet at once, some thanking God that, even
though they are behind prison bars, he has washed away their sins in
the precious blood of Jesus, and declaring their intention of leading
clean lives, lives that will honor the Lord; adding that they are
asking him to give them honest jobs in respectable quarters, so that
they need never again be obliged to return to their former environments
of vice and degradation. And so on, until time for testimony is up.

"How many desire an interest in our prayers, that you may lead lives