To Brother George L. Herr

The days are long and dreary, And the hours go slowly by, While the prisoner, sad and weary, Longs for the time to fly. But one brings joy and sunshine To the prisoners sad at heart, And it is but a short time 'Till with him we'll have to part. We cannot find another, Search, I care not where, Who will do as much for a brother As our Bro. George L. Herr. He comes early in the morning, And never leaves till night; He always seems untiring, Helping wayward men do right. He is always up and willing Whene'er a prisoner call, To go and do the bidding Of a man behind the wall. And then there is another, Who shares his joy and strife; She is called by the prisoners "Mother," And is Bro. Herr's good wife. Early Sunday morning, In rain, snow, sleet, or hail, You will find him holding meeting In the Jefferson County Jail. I love to hear him tell the story Of the "Prodigal Son," And of the "Mighty Prince of Glory," From whom salvation sprung. Round his good face there seems a halo, His work is for One on high, He makes sunshine out of sorrow, Whenever he is nigh.