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He rose to his feet and said, "O lady, I know He's my Lawyer. I know He's taken my case.
Nothing matters from here on out."
I pulled this tall boy down and kissed him on the cheek.
"Lady," he said, "that must be the nearest to a mother's kiss I've ever known."
gone!
He left me, but the following Friday I called again. I went to the cell block, but Bob was
"Where is Bob?" I asked the police.
"O," one said, "he's gone down the river to start his five-year term."
One of the boys came to the bars and said, "Mrs. Hanley, my name's Dick. Bob was my
bunk mate. You know Tuesday when he came back from having talked with you in the office?"
"Yes."
"When Bob came back, the boys were shuffling cards. They said, 'Come on, Bob, it's your
turn to deal.' He said, 'No, boys, there'll be no more card playing for me. I'm a Christian.' One of
the boys said, 'Ah, come off that sissy stuff. What's the matter with you? Come on. Deal these
cards. Here's a cigarette.' But Bob said, 'No fellows, there'll be no more smoking for me. I'm a
Christian.'"
Thank the Lord for that! Now I hadn't told Bob that Christians should not play cards. There
had not been time to do that. But on those few steel steps leading to his cell, the Holy Spirit had
already done His work of instructing him.
Dick continued, "Bob took me to the bunk where we slept. He got me down on my knees
next to our vermin-ridden mattress and there he led me to Jesus."
Think of it! Bob had been saved only a few moments when he began to be a witness for his
Saviour.
A month or so later, I got a letter from the chaplain where Bob was beginning to serve his
five-year term. He said, "When Bob came to us, he told me he was a believer in the Lord Jesus
Christ. He told me about his father and about himself. I told him that he would have to write his
father and ask forgiveness for the hatred he had in his heart toward him. This he did, and it was
only a few weeks until his father came with a rabbi and a lawyer. The rules of the prison were
such that they could speak only in my presence in the chaplain's office under guard.
"The father began to make excuses, then reasoned with Bob. 'I'm sorry I haven't answered
your letters,' he began, 'I've been busy. But Bob, you're a good Jewish boy. I'm sorry I haven't been
a better father. Bob, we've come down now to see if we can get you out of prison. The lawyer's