# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1880_S46
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

46

The Lutheran Pioneer.

the poor Bible gets in the way of an AIRING.

That is your style of entertaining this heavenly
messenger. There is dust enough on some of
your Bibles to write ‘damnation’ with your
fingers.” This minister was telling his hearers
blunt words,—but true words.—Now, how is it
- with you, dear reader—are you a Bible-reader
—a Biblesearcher? Do you know what is con-
tained in this book, the Bible? do you seek to
be acquainted with it? Are you aware of the
fact, that, in the Bible, you are concealing
under your roof a sublime sanctuary, an incom-
parable treasure? Oh, if everybody but knew

the great gift of God! Perhaps, dear reader,
you have heard the story of the poor cottager,

whom a traveller accosted, to ask of him a

drink of fresh water. Entering the poor little

log cabin the stranger found the parents cursing
and quarreling, the half naked children trem-
bling, crouched together in a corner; greeting
them, the stranger admonished them to live to-

gether in peace and unity. ‘‘Dear friends”’,
said he, “why do you make your house like
hell??? The man replied: ‘‘Ah! sir, you do
not know the life and trials of a poor man.
When everything goes wrong—when all the
pay of our hard labor, day by day, is but a
crust of dry bread—quarrels, and disputes, and
despair spring up thick as mushrooms.’’ The
stranger drank the water, which they gave him
from a broken cup, and then said softly (for
in adark and dusty corner of the cottage he
had noticed a Bible), ‘‘Dear friends, I know
well what would help you on. There is a

treasure concealed in your house; SEARCH FOR

r. If you find it, and use it aright, in a short
time you will be so rich and happy as never to
envy any one in the world again.” So saying,
he Jeft them. At first the cottagers thought
this a joke, and treated it as such. But they
soon began to reflect on it. So, when the
woman at any time went out to gather sticks
in the wood, the man would search and even
dig, that he might find the treasure—and when
the man was away at his daily work, the
woman would do the same. Still they found
nothing—their poverty increased and brought
only more quarrels, discontent, and strife. One
day as the woman again was left alone in the
house, she began to reflect on what the stranger
had said with greater wonder than ever. She
looked now here, now there, till she cast her
eyes (‘“‘by chance”? as some would say) on the
Bible, which Jay unheeded in a dark, dusty
corner. It had been a gift from her mother;
but since her death, it had been altogether un-
read and unuséd. A strange foreboding took
possession of her mind. What, if it were this
book that the stranger meant? She took it out
from amongst the rubbish where it lay, opened
it, and found these words of the Psalmist in-
scribed on the title-page, in her mother’s hand-
writing: “The word of thy mouth is better
unto me than thousands of gold and silver.’’
It cut her to the heart. - Ah! thought she, this
may be the treasure the stranger had in view.
She read from that old Bible, and every word

_

went to her heart as she never felt before. Ah!
how her tears fell upon the leaves! Hence-
forth she read the Bible every day, and prayed,
and taught her children to pray; but all with-
out her husband’s knowledge. One day he
came home as usual, quarreling, and in a rage.
Instead of meeting his angry words with angry
replies, she spoke to him meekly and with
gentleness. He was astonished and ashamed.
“‘Husband”’, said she, ‘‘we have sinned griev-
ously; we have ourselves to blame for all our
misery, and must now lead a different life.’
He looked amazed. ‘‘What do you say ?’’—
he exclaimed. She brought the old Bible,
and, sobbing, cried out: “THERE IS THE
TREASURE; SEE, I HAVE FOUND IT!”
Her husband sat down in silence. She read to
him the history of the Lord Jesus, how he so
loved sinners as to die for them. The man’s
heart was moved; he bit his lips, and trembled.
Next day she read to him again, and again,
and again; and he sat with the little children
around him, Oh so thoughtful and attentive!
Thus we leave them.

A year has passed by, and the stranger re-
turned that way. ‘‘Behold’’, said he to him-
self, ‘‘yonder is that poor old log cabin; I will
speak to the poor people once more, and see
how they are getting along now.”” As he said,
so he did. But he would scarcely have known
the cabin again; it was so clean, so neat, so
well ordered. He opened the door, but at first
thought that he was mistaken; for the man and
woman came to meet him so kindly, so cheer-
fully, with the peace of God beaming from
their faces. ‘‘How are you getting along now,
good ‘people?”’ said he. Then they knew the
stranger, and with joyful countenances took
him by the hand. For some time they
could not speak: tears choked their utterance.
“Thanks, thanks, dear sir; we have found your
treasure; now dwells the blessing of God in our
house—his peace in our hearts’’. So said

‘they, and their entire condition, and the happy

faces of their children, not indeed rich, but
neatly clothed, said the same still more plainly.
What does this simple and plain story teach
you, kind reader?—Oh! let us ALL turn our
eyes more diligently to that fountain of salva-
tion, whence human happiness alone can flow!
Are you a father, or a mother, or a child; are
you a Jayman or a minister; are you a master
or a servant; are you rich or poor; are you a
merchant or a poor laboring-man; are you
young or old; are you in health or in sickness;
in adversity or prosperity—read the Scriptures,
for they will tell you what duty you owe to
God. With this advice let me take leave from
you, for what should I say more of the Script-
ures, how profitable and comfortable they are
in all conditions of life? In adversity, in pro-
sperity, in life and in death, they are our only
comfort. If we must fight, they are a sword;
if we hunger, they are meat; if we thirst, they
are drink; if we have no dwelling-place, they
are a house; if we be naked, they are a gar-
ment; if we be in darkness, they are a light

unto our path. They are comfortable and pro-
fitable to kings and subjects, to old and young,
to man and wife, to father and child, to master
and servant, to captain and soldier, to minister
and people, to the learned and the unlearned,
to the wise and to the siinple. They are com-
fortable and profitable in peace, in war, in
heaviness, in joy, in health and sickness, in
abundance, in poverty, in the daytime, in the
night-season, in the city, in the village, in the
wilderness, in company, and when you are
alone. “For they teach faith, hope, patience,
charity, sobriety, humility, righteousness and
all godliness. They teach us how to live—and
they teach us how to die. ‘Therefore let us be
Bible-readers—Bible-searchers!! ‘Search the
Scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal
life, and they are they which testify of me.’
(John 5, 39.) C. F. OBE.

——s +e or oe
Archibald Boyle,
or,
There is no Rest in Hell.

(A true story.)

This is leap year. It reminds us of a story
we read some time ago, the story of Archibald
Boyle. Many readers of the PlonEER perhaps
never read the story. Here it is.

About ninety years ago, there was in Glas-
gow, a city of Scotland, a club of gentlemen of
the first rank in that city. The members were
known as such fearless mockers of religion that
the club was called ‘The Hell Club’’.

Besides their nightly or weekly meetings,
they held a grand yearly festival, at which
each member tried to ‘‘outdo all his former
outdoings’”’, in drunkenness, blasphemy and
other sins. Of all who shone at these meetings,
none shone half so brilliantly as Archibald
Boyle, a young man of dazzling talents and
fascinating manners. He had become a victim
and a slave of sin, and he gloried in that which
was his shame. To him what were heaven,
hell or eternity? Words, mere words. To
him there was no greater glory than that of
hearing himself called ‘‘The very life of the
Club.”’

One night, on retiring to sleep, after coming
home from one of the yearly meetings of the
club, Boyle dreamt that he was still riding on
his famous black horse, towards his beautiful
country-house, and that suddenly some one
spoke to him whom, in the gloom of night, he
could not well see, but who, grasping the reins,
said in a Joud voice, ‘“You must go with me.”’
“‘And who are you?” said Boyle with an oath,
while he tried to take the reins from the speak-
er’s grasp. ‘‘That you will see by and by”,
said the same voice in a cold snecring tone,
that thrilled through his very heart. Boyle
plunged his spurs into the panting sides of his
steed, the noble animal reared,
suddenly darted forward with great speed;
but in vain, in vain!—fleeter than the wind
he flew—the half-seen guide still before him!

. — “a

and then —