There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth. I seek to show you the way to the kingdom of heaven, where there is no more temptation, no sin, no sorrow, no pain; to the place where Jesus has gone to prepare a home for those who love Him, follow Him and trust Him. My heart yearns over you in your sad exile from wife, children, mother, father, husband, brother, sister, friends. Truly the way of the transgressor is hard. But, my prison children, I beg of you do not go from one prison to another. Flee from sin. I do not and dare not smooth over your sins. Prove yourselves worthy of the confidence of good people. Give God your hearts and be true to Him and He will not forsake you. Some of you are doomed to the scaffold! How long, O Lord, how long must such things be in a Christian land? O, that I had the power to abolish capital punishment! But I will do all I can to help you prepare for death. Jesus loves you. He was taken from prison and executed as a criminal. He was innocent, yet He suffered death for a guilty world. He was tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin. "And being tempted, He is able to succor them that are tempted." And though you pass through the valley of the shadow of death, if you but trust Him, He will go with you and you need fear no evil. [Illustration: GIVING THE BOYS COUNSEL.] CHAPTER III. A Plea for the Prisoner. IN THE SHADOW OF THE WALL. BY OLLA F. BEARD. (The writer of this poem was a personal acquaintance and friend. At the time the poem was written her father was warden of the penitentiary at Fort Madison, Iowa, and she took great interest in his work.--E. R. W.) Oh, those wond'rous gloomy walls! What a chill their shadow calls To creep and tingle through our veins! Moving all our soul contains Of pity for the woes within-- Those who move within this pall, Those who bear a load of sin, In the shadow of that wall. Yes, you think their lot is hard; So do all you can t'retard Their sad downward course in time, And save them from a greater crime. But pause and come with me to view Various pictures in the hall Of the innocent and true, In the shadow of this wall. There's a mother, good and true, With a face of palest hue; Eyes are dimmed and faint to-day, With their brightness washed away By the tears she's nightly shed; Yet she does not fail to call Blessings on her dear boy's head, In the shadow of the wall. There's a father, too, bowed o'er With age, and his head is hoar. Ah! it surely broke his heart With his honored name to part. Now instead of his boy's arm, A cane-stalk keeps him from a fall, As he walks about his farm, In the shadow of the wall.