# Der Lutheraner_St. Louis Missouri_1846 11 24_S38
# AI translation — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

...had never seen before, for it was neither Torgau nor Gotha. There I found everything in great perplexity, and someone came up to me and told me that the Elector was so sorrowful that an illness was to be feared. I am summoned, I come before him, and when I see that it is not an illness of the body but of the mind — one that could, however, still endanger the body — I apply remedies and comforts from the balm-chest of Christ, and especially from the Psalms: 'Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou so disquieted within me? Hope thou in the Lord, for I shall yet praise him, who is the help of my countenance and my God.' (Psalm 42:11.) The prince, who often changed his location in order to find some rest, directed me to a place that was built of stone on every side — floor and ceiling as well — and in the middle of it, as it seemed to me, was the empty tomb of Christ, from which he had risen. It was quite pleasant here, except that there were no seats or benches, so that one had to stand or walk about. The entrance was open on every side, and there was no door or barrier at all. In this sanctuary I saw a very beautiful year-old lamb, with snow-white fleece and two curved, sharp horns. I waited for the prince and his retinue, so that we might be strengthened together by the comforts of the divine Word. But as he delayed, I saw a large, ugly dog approaching, with very long hair, like that of an old billy-goat. Its color was between ash-gray and yellow; its eyes flashed with rage, and slaver dripped from its mouth, yet I did not hear it bark. It came straight into the open chapel where I was with the lamb. I was greatly frightened and feared both for myself and for the lamb, for I had no weapon with which to drive it off; yet in order somehow to keep it from tearing the lamb apart and biting me, I seized a piece of wood that happened to be lying there, and waited to see what it would do. But the lamb, when it saw the dog, was not frightened at all, but became even livelier, and I saw its eyes shining like glowing bronze. It charges and strikes the dog in the side, so that, badly hurt, it seeks to flee with barking and howling; but the lamb strikes it a second time and throws it stunned to the ground. Then I see, in a corner of the chapel, a deep, dark cave, down to which steps lead. There the lamb pushes this hound of hell and hurls it down with such force that even in my sleep I heard how the ugly, ferocious beast plunged down howling, striking here and there against the walls of the abyss. But the lamb came back to me fawning, as if to say that I need not be afraid now, that the victory had been won, and that there was nothing left to do but triumph. So I awoke, and wondered greatly what this event in the Lord's burial chapel, and the lamb's battle with this hound of hell, might mean."

38

He told his dream to Pancratius Süßbach, rector of the Gymnasium at Gotha, and added that he was very eager to hear what news would come from the court. And behold, three days later he received, on his sickbed, a letter from the court, in which he was invited to the religious colloquy at Regensburg.

"O, if only I were" — wrote the man, joyful in faith, to Dr. Matthäus Ratzenberger, the Elector's personal physician — "as strong in body as I feel myself to be in spirit! How I would rejoice to see the lamb's attacks upon the head and flanks of this hound of hell. I know that he who is in us is stronger than he who is in the world, and it would delight me to play with the Virgin's little child over the hole of those serpents and dragons. — If I live, I will write to you again; but if I am gathered to our fathers, I will nevertheless cry out with you to God, that he not have patience without end, but deliver us from the evil one. Yes, the lamb has already redeemed us; to him alone belong power and victory, salvation and honor, Amen. I now go back again to my little bed and wait for the will of God to be done in me, the good, fatherly will of God, of which it is written: In his will is life! Farewell, my dear Ratzenberger, and strengthen the most gracious prince and all the fathers in Christ. The time is short, and they shall look upon him whom they have pierced, whose bones they did not break. For he must be trodden upon, and will not go on crutches. Come, Lord Jesus, quickly, and deliver us from evil. Amen. Gotha, on the Day of Epiphany, 1546."

Likewise, the departing servant of the Lord lets us take a look into his heart — resigned to the Lord and comforted — in a letter addressed to M. Rörer, preacher at Wittenberg, and we cannot deny ourselves, and must share with our readers something from this letter as well.

"I ask" — he writes — "the venerable father Luther, who by his command and letter has held me back until now, that he release me with his blessing; yet as God wills, not as I will. Everything rests in his will: to be sick, to languish, and to recover, for his will is gain to me. Yet, if it did not displease God, how gladly would I rather be released and be at home with Christ, than remain any longer a useless and mute burden upon the earth. I ask you, my dear Rörer, obtain an answer for me from the Doctor. Because of the pain in my throat I can scarcely take either food or drink; but I refresh myself with the heavenly manna, and I am now reading, on my little bed, the second Psalm: Why do the heathen rage, and so forth, and I worship the Son who is given to us. Praised be God, who refreshes me in these pains so that I quite forget that I am sick. O Lord Jesus, how could we ever repay you and your faithful and wise servant (Luther), whom you have set over your household so that he might so provide for us, for this immeasurable benefit? We thank you, for we can do nothing else, and you will nothing else of us. Farewell, my Rörer, and when you hear that I have been buried, know that nothing but bones and skin, sin and disobedience, and the old rebellious man are buried, so that he may become wholly free from the poison of the devil, of sin, and of death. But the inward man is renewed from day to day; he lives in Christ, and Christ has loved me and given himself for me; in him my life is hidden in God, so that, as he lives, we too shall live. This man does not die and is not buried, but lives in rest and peace, and the raging heathen, kings, and peoples will not trouble him with their plots. — Write to me again, and do not let your duties keep you from it, for illness sought to hinder me too, but against its will I tore myself from my bed and have written this. Now I return to my bed; let illness and pain do what God bids them. However fierce they may be, I know that God, even in the midst of his wrath, has mercy. Farewell once more. Gotha, on the day when the scales fell from Paul's eyes (that is, January 15), 1546."

We do not know whether Luther still sent an answer to his Myconius, but his death, which occurred on February 18, was answer enough for him. It happened as Luther had said beforehand — he himself entered into his rest sooner. Luther's death certainly shook the already afflicted man, yet he said: "What more, indeed, would Luther have wanted to do in this stubborn and thankless world?" He thanked God for having sent this Elijah in these last times, and had only this one wish left: "May the Lord grant me a good hour, that I may soon follow him. Amen."

But even though Luther was no longer among the living, there were still souls who knew how to value so faithful a servant of Christ as Myconius was, and who, even if they could not come themselves to his sickbed, at least refreshed him through their letters, rich in love and comforting words drawn from God's Word. The Wittenbergers did this too, among others Kaspar Creutziger and Melanchthon, most faithfully. The latter wrote to him, among other things: "If you are called out of this poor life before I am, I will faithfully do good to your children wherever I can."

This very thing his Elector also assured him of. Myconius had, in a moving letter, taken leave of his gracious lord, and had also comforted the Elector — deeply grieved by Luther's death — telling him that Luther had by no means died, but that only now was his spirit truly beginning to live, "and just as God, after he had taken Christ up into heaven, gave apostles, teachers, and finally also this..."