# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1887_S19
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

The Lutheran Pioneer.

19

A Sailor Lad’s Death.

One winter evening, writes a pastor, I was
startled by the intelligence that a bark, laden
with palm oil from the African coast, with her
crew dead and dying, was brought into harbor
by some of the revenue cutter’s sailors, who
had found her drifting helplessly toward the
coast. After some delay, partly arising, I
imagined, from reluctance on the part of the
boatmen to approach the ship, I succeeded in
getting a boat. Pushing off, we pulled toward
the mouth of the harbor. The darkness of the
winter's night fast shrouded the lessening shore
as we glided rapidly on our way, and a dense
bank of clouds hung away to seaward. We
rowed along-side and soon found ourselves on
deck. A‘ coast guard came forward to receive
us, and we learned that the crew were in an
awful state below. AJl around was dense dark-

- ness. The coast guard held the light. The
moans of the sick and dying in the berths all
around mingled with the melancholy wail-
ing of the wind through the shrouds. The
rolling of the ship rendered it somewhat
unsteady footing as I bent over one of the
sufferers beside me. The light flickered,
then fell steadily on the pale, emaciated,
ghastly features of a young lad. Scurvy
had played fearful havoc with that face.
The fever had clinched him in its firm
grip. The cap upon the head, and pea-
jacket, told the tale that he had struggled
to the last, and then turned in—never-
more to rise from that narrow, stifling
bunk. A horrible odor filled the forecastle.
The fever stench mingled with the scurvy
atmosphere. Altogether, I could scarce
hold on by the poor boy’s side. The dying
face was painfully and slowly turned to-
ward me,

“‘Boy,”’ Isaid, ‘‘my boy, you are dying.”’
The eyes languidly shut, then re-opened. “I
know it,’’ he gently said. Pointing to the
gloom, ‘‘I have a mother,” he muttered; ‘“‘she

- taught me to pray—I have been at Sunday-

school— yonder, in my box is my Bible.”
There was something in the way the words
were uttered, and in the loving gleam that
stole across the pale, sickness-worn features, ag
he looked toward the Bible, which made me
feel that the boy was resting upon his Lord
and Saviour. I bent over, and whispered:

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me.”

The words had barely passed my lips, when
he took them up, and feebly said:
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee!
Let the water und the blood,
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure—
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.’’

Never did those words so thrill my heart be-
fore, though often heard, as when repeated by
those dying lips in that dark, stifling forecastle.

“«T wish,’’ he said, ‘I could be removed out
of this berth. or the Iast seven days I have

‘excursion steamer that was moving slowly down

been lying in the wet; but,’’ he continued, | musical notes had died away. Then a gentle-
“it’s no matter; my soul is safe.’’ jman made his way from the outskirts of the

Bending over him, I prayed earnestly; and| crowd to the side of the singer, and accosted
the poor, thin lips moved, and the dim eyes| him with, ‘‘Beg your pardon, stranger, but .
brightened, as he mentioned in the prayer that | were you actively engaged in the late war.”
the blessed Saviour would sustain and comfort} ‘‘Yes, sir,’’ the man of song answered,
him in his dying hour. jcourteously; ‘‘I fought under Gen. Grant.’

It would be well, I thought, that many a| ‘‘ Well,” the first speaker continued, with
careless man should stand by that dying boy’s | something like a sigh, ‘‘I did my fighting on
side this night, and see how the blessed Lord | the other side, and think, indeed, am quite sure,
can whisper peace, and hope, and joy, even in |I was very near you one bright night eighteen
the dark valley of death’s shadow. | years ago, this very month. It was much such

Before the morning light had dawned, the|a night as this. If I am not mistaken you
boy’s happy spirit had taken its flight to the; were on guard duty. We of the South had
‘*better land.’’ |sharp business on hand, and you were one of

Would the reader’s present knowledge of the|the enemy. I crept near your post of duty,
blessed Saviour give him peace and joy under; my murderous weapon in my hand; the shad-
such circumstances. The end of your earthly |ows hid me. As you paced back and forth
history may not be so far distant as you may you were humming the tune of the hymn you
imagine; your voyage may be nearly ended;| have just sung. I raised my gun and aimed
life’s hour may nearly have emptied its sands, | at your heart, and I had been selected by our
and the few remaining grains in the glass call| commander for the work because I was a sure
shot. Then out upon the night rang the
words:

“Cover my defenceless head
With the shadow of Thy wing.”

‘‘Your prayer was answered. I couldn't
fire after that, and there was no attack
made upon your camp that night. I felt
sure when I heard you sing this evening
that you were the man whose life I was
spared from taking.’’ The singer grasped
the hand of the Southerner, and said with
much emotion: ‘I remember the night
very well, and distinctly the feeling of op-
pression and loneliness with which I went
forth to my duty. I knew my post was
one of great danger, and I was more de-
jected than I remember to have been at
any other time during the service. I paced
my lonely beat, thinking of home and
friends, and all that life holds dear. Then
the thought of God’s care for all that He had
created came to me with peculiar force. If He
so cares for the sparrow, how much more for
man created in His ownimage? And I sang
the prayer of my heart, and ceased to feel
alone. How the prayer was answered I never
knew until this evening. My heavenly Father
thought best to keep the knowledge from me
for eighteen years. How much of His goodness
to us we shall be ignorant of until it is re-
vealed by the light of eternity! ‘Jesus, lover
of my soul,’ has been a favorite hymn; now,
it will be inexpressibly dear.”’

The incident related in the above sketch is a
true one, and was related to the writer by a
lady who was one of the party on the steamer.

The Ascension of Christ.

to you with solemn earnestness, ‘‘Prepare to
meet thy God!’’ ‘But, how?’’ you say.
Christ is the only, but allsufficient Saviour!
He can save you; none other can. The rock
has been cleft; hide thee there, and He will
prove a ‘‘covert from the storm.”’

2+ 0 pe

Saved by Song.

A party of Northern tourists formed part of
a large company gathered on the deck of an

the historic Potomac one beautiful evening in
the summer of 1881. A gentleman, who has
since gained a national reputation as an evan-
gelist of song, had been delighting the party
with his happy rendering of many familiar
hymns, the last being the sweet petition so
dear to every Christian heart, ‘‘Jesus, lover of
my soul.’ The singer gave the first two verses
with much feeling, and a peculiar emphasis
upon the concluding lines that thrilled every
heart. A hush had fallen upon the listeners
that was net broken for some seconds after the

WE go through life like a man with a dark
lantern, throwing light only on the few steps
before; but since, little by little, all the miles
of mysterious darkness that stretched beyond
our sight, will become the few steps before us,
the light, thank God! is enough for the whole
way: 6