# Der Lutheraner_St. Louis Missouri_1846 10 27_S26
# AI translation — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

guide seized with his right hand my right foot, which was crossed over the left, and thrust me into the spring. Lord, my God, what happened to me then! With my head I touched the breast of Christ and the source of that great wound in his side, and with my knees and hands the body of the Crucified One, on which I supported myself so as not to sink under. Into my mouth, heart, and head there streamed the sweetest drink and quickened my whole being, within and without. But as I raised my refreshed head, I was ashamed that so great a sinner should rest upon such a support and be refreshed with a drink of which neither the angels nor any creature is worthy. Then my guide took hold of me and drew me out of this fountain of salvation, and asked whether I had drunk and been refreshed. But I thanked my God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, for his grace toward me, a sinner, confessed that I was unworthy of such goodness, yet did not dare to reproach my guide for having plunged me into the spring upon the Crucified One. "Now you know," he said, "that you have drunk from the spring — indeed, from the very source of the spring itself." We rested a little while at the spring; then he bade me gird myself and follow him. I do so, and I am already able to walk, overflowing with refreshment from the enjoyment of the living water. We walk along the river across that pleasant meadow; it seemed to me, though, to be one o'clock in the afternoon. Scarcely had we gone an hour's way when, behold, before us lay a great, wide, broad wheat field, as if it were once more the whole world. "Here," said my guide, "you must labor and reap." I replied that I was indeed afraid of no labor, but that I had never yet wielded a sickle, nor even cut down a single stalk. But he said: "What you do not know, you shall learn." When we now came to the edge of the field, there stood a reaper, plying the sickle with such strong arms and such zeal at the work as though he alone meant to harvest this immense field. And indeed he had cut a great stretch in a single day. "Join yourself to him," said my guide; "he shall instruct and support you." Now as I looked at this venerable man, he was so like my guide that I did not know whether it was one person or two. And without more ado this man took the sickle and cut off two or three handfuls, showing me that this was how I must do it. Then that reaper too came up and rejoiced that he had gained a helper in me, and showed me as well how he grasped the ears with his left hand and cut them off with his right. I take up the sickle in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ; the work went slowly at first, but gradually, through practice, I gained skill. My guide stood by and praised me for making such progress, and instructed me that I should not concern myself much with the straw and stubble which the Lord has no need of, but that I should also

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not leave standing any usable ears either. Very faithfully did that venerable superior, to whom I had been given as helper and fellow worker, stand by me, and when he saw that I was falling behind, he came to my place and helped me there too. When we had come with our work up to a moderate rise, I straightened up and looked around over the field and said to my guide: Good God, when and in what time shall we bring in this immeasurable harvest? And behold, I catch sight of people coming from a distance, now one, now two, who begin to reap in various parts of the field. But still they seemed to me few in comparison with the size of the field and the harvest. So then I worked with my venerable helper and master, as it seemed to me, for many days, so that I saw that with continued labor it would indeed be possible to bring in the harvest of the field. When we were tired, we went to the brook, and there we found bread, fish, and also roasted meat for us; with these we refreshed ourselves. There also came to us those who were working around us, to the right and to the left. During this whole harvest time it seemed to me as though I were in heaven, so great was the joy of working in such company. My guide had withdrawn already on the first evening, I do not know where to, but I supposed that he was pressing on the work in other parts of the field. The Lord of the harvest sent our sustenance, and we lacked nothing; nor were we at all troubled that the harvest was so great and we so few for it, and when we noticed that winter was drawing near, we were not anxious either about whether we would be able to bring in everything. At last, however, I felt that my bodily and spiritual strength was exhausted by the unceasing labor, and that I must either rest or sit down in the field. Yet the labors of my helpers strengthened me, especially of that teacher to whom I had been assigned, and so, though exhausted, I still held out at the work for a while and did what I could. But after some days I am led — I know not by whom or how — into the sleeping chamber, and lie down weary and sick upon my bed. As I lie there thus and draw breath with difficulty, I look at my breast and perceive that all my flesh is so wasted away that of my whole body nothing remains but bones, which scarcely still hang together in the withered skin. My spirit, however, was consoled through it all, and I was troubled only about this, that perhaps something of the fruits of the good householder might be left in the field that could not be harvested before winter came. As I thus now am fearful, now hopeful, suddenly my rescuer from the wilderness, my faithful guide, stands beside me, and with him yet another man of apostolic appearance, such as one is accustomed to paint Andrew or Philip. Then my guide comforted me greatly, with a cheerful mouth and joyful voice, and as I listen attentively to him, I see the image of the Crucified One, upon whom I had been thrown in the spring, fastened to the wall directly opposite my bed, in the same form, yet again in an altogether different manner; for in the spring the whole flesh had seemed to shine, but here it was so shriveled in all its limbs that one could count every bone, and it was an altogether pitiful sight. I look again at my own breast, and there too there was nothing but bones clothed with skin, and I could scarcely draw breath any longer for sickness. Then Paul, my guide, tapped with his finger upon my breast, and pointing with the forefinger of his right hand at Christ, who stood before me, he says: "You must become like him." At this touch and these words I awake; everything has vanished, and there remained in my mind only the thought of what this might mean."

Let us further hear our Myconius on his monastic fortunes and the interpretation of the dream. He says: "I did not wish to speak of it to any monk, lest they should laugh at me. I saw clearly that this dream must signify something important; but, my God, what foolish and perverse thoughts I formed about it. That rocky waste I interpreted as my former worldly life, my going out of it as my entry into the Franciscan order, the harvest as the observance of the rules of the order. Yet this was against it: that in the whole dream I had seen no monk, and nothing of any monkish work whatsoever. Meanwhile I was now made acquainted with monastic life; the rules of the order, explanations, exceptions, and the like, were set before me. Only now did I truly come into the wasteland, and was truly tempted and tormented by the devil, and learned that nowhere less than in the monastic orders was rest of conscience, forgiveness of sins, faith, and hope of eternal life to be found. I did more than was necessary, with psalm-singing, saying of Mass, praying, fasting, keeping silence, and so on, in order in this way to make up for my lack of good works. I chose for myself new patrons, saints, martyrs, images, and made them mediators between myself and Christ; but in this way I got, over the course of seven years, ever further away. Since my zealous studying would not help me, I learned handicrafts — painting letters, turning on the lathe — and was very displeased with my Creator, that he had made me and yet would not grant me to become pious. I will not even speak at all of my temptations concerning my election, through which I was cast into the lowest hell, so that I even drew my confessor and other monks, whom I asked for help and comfort, into my own temptation, until at last no one would listen to me any more. But then God had mercy on me and on my contemporaries, and in the year 1517, in my twenty-seventh