[Illustration: _MOTHER WHEATON_] PRISONS AND PRAYER OR A LABOR OF LOVE BY ELIZABETH R. WHEATON Prison Evangelist [Illustration: decoration] An account of nearly Twenty-two Years of Gospel Work, seeking the lost, in Prisons, Reformatories, Stockades, Rescue Homes, Saloons and Dives, and on the Streets, Railway Trains, etc. [Illustration: decoration] "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." Psa. 126:6. [Illustration: decoration] "For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I was IN PRISON, and ye came unto me."--Matthew 25: 35, 36. [Illustration: decoration] CHAS. M. KELLEY Tabor, Iowa. COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY CHAS. M. KELLEY. 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 Words and music copyright, John J. Hood, Philadelphia. PREFACE.