# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1889_S27
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

The Lutheran Pioneer.

24

“Only a Boy.”

More than half a century ago a faithful min-
ister, coming early to the kirk, met one of the
deacons whose face wore a very resolute but

distressed expression.

“‘T came early to meet you,’’ he said. ‘I have
something on my conscience to say to you. Pas-
tor, there must be something radically wrong
in your preaching and work; there has been
only one person added to the church in a whole
year, and he is only a boy.’’

The old minister listened; his eyes moistened,
and his thin hand trembled on his broad-headed
cane.

“*T feel it all,’’ he said. ‘I feel it; but God
knows that I have tried to do my duty, and I
can trust Him for the results.’’

“Yes, yes,’’ said the deacon; “but ‘by their
Jruits ye shall know them,’ and one new mem-
ber, and he, too, only a boy, seems to me a
rather slight evidence of true faith and zeal.
I don’t want to be hard; but I have had this
matter on my conscience, and I have done but
my duty in speaking plainly.’’

“True,” said the old man; ‘but ‘charity
suffereth long and is kind; beareth all things,
hopeth all things.’ Ay, there you have it:
‘hopeth all things.’ I have great hopes of that
one boy, Robert. Some seed that we sow bears
fruit late, but that fruit is generally the most
precious of all.’’

The old minister went into the pulpit that
day with a grieved and heavy heart. He closed
his discourse with dim and tearful eyes. He
wished that his work’ was done forever, and
that he was at rest among the graves under the
blooming trees in the old kirk-yard.

He lingered in the dear old kirk after the
rest were gone. He wished to be alone. The
place was sacred and inexpressibly dear to him
It had been his spiritual home from his youth.
Before this altar he had prayed over the dead
forms of a bygone generation, and had wel-
comed the children of a new generation; and
here, yes, here, he had been told at last that
his work was no Jonger owned and blessed!

No one remained—no one? ‘‘Only a boy.”

The boy was Robert Moffat. He watched
the trembling old man. His soul was filled
with living sympathy. He went to him and
laid his hand on his black gown.

‘‘Well, Robert?’’ said the minister.

“Do you think, if I were willing to work
hard for an education, I could ever become a
preacher?’’

“A preacher?”

‘Perhaps a missionary.”

There was a long pause. Tears filled the eyes
of the old minister. At length he said:

“This heals the ache in my heart, Robert.
I see the Divine hand now.. May God bless
you, my boy; yes, I think you will become a
preacher.”

Some years ago there returned to London
from Africa an aged missionary. His name
was spoken with reverence. It was Robert

Moffat. When he went into an assembly the
people rose; when he spoke in public there was
adeep silence. Princes stood uncovered before
him; nobles invited him to their homes.

He had added a province to the Church of
Christ on earth; had brought under the gospel
influence the most savage of African chiefs; had
given the translated Bible to strange tribes; had
enriched with valuable knowledge the Royal
Geographical Society, and had honored the
humble place of his birth, the Scottish kirk,
the United Kingdom, and the universal mis-
sionary cause.

It is hard to trust when no evidence of fruit
appears. But the harvests are sure. The old
minister sleeps beneath the trees in the humble
place of his labors, but men remember his work
because of what he was to that one boy, and
what that boy was to the world.

“Only a boy.’’

“Do thou thy work; it shall succeed
In thine or in another's day;
And if denied the victor’s meed,
Thou shalt not miss the toiler’s pay.”’

——+> - <> -

“1 Think | had Better Mind Father.’

Scattered all over the coal regions are great
holes, made by the sinking of the earth after
the coal has been taken from the mines. The
miners know when there is danger of a cave-in
and, if along the public road, some signal is
given to travelers. These cave-ins generally
happen at night, when few persons are passing,
but there have been cases in which horses and
wagons, and even houses and people, have been
buried by the sudden sinking down of the road
when it was thought safe to travel over it.

Let me tell the young folks a true incident
of how a boy, not very long ago, escaped going
down with one of those cave-ins.

A part of the road between what is called
the Logan colliery, in Schuylkill county, Pa.,
and a town two miles distant, had been con-
demned, and a fence was put up to separate it
from a new road which had to be made. This
new road ran for some distance close by the
old one, and then branched off making the
distance much longer from the town to the
colliery. But, as the condemned road was the
nearest, the miners for some months continued
to go over it, to and from their work.

One evening a miner living at Logan coll-
iery, sent his son Willie to the town on an
errand.

“Tt will be after nightfall, boy,’’ said his
father, ‘‘ before you get home; on no condition,
then, return on the condemned road.”’

On his way to the town, it being yet light,
Willie ran quickly over the dangerous path-
way; and having done his errand, he started
for home. He was tired, for he had been
working all day, and when he reached the
fence which separated the safe from the unsafe
road, he stopped and, as he afterward told it,
thus reasoned with himself:

“T am tired, and if I take this short cut; I

will soon be home.
But father said, ‘Do not on any condition
return over it.’ I can’t see any danger; the
men go over it every day, and it was safe two
hours ago—but father told me not to return

over it—and—I think I had better mind
father.’’

I believe I will risk it.

So he jogged along on the side of the fence
where the earth was firm. The stars shone

brightly, and he could plainly see his way.

When he got to the middle of the fence he felt
the ground shake, and to his horror saw the

condemned road disappearing from his sight.

He stood still for 2 moment, awe-struck at
the escape he had made; for had he not obeyed
his father, he must have gone with the sinking

earth, and been buried alive.

When he had got a little over his fright, he
hurried to the house of the watchman and, pale
and trembling, gave notice of the danger, and
also told of his narrow escape from a frightful

death.

To the children who obey their parents in
the Lord has been given the promise “that it
may be well with thee, and thou mayest live
long on the earth.’”

How true Willie found this promise!

0 1 eo

The Brave Sailor-lad.

A few days out from New York a great ship
was overtaken by a terrible storm, which lasted
nearly a week.

One day, at the height of the tempest, the
rigging at the mainmast head got tangled, and
some one had to go up and straighten it. The
mate called a boy belonging to the ship and
ordered him aloft.

The lad touched his cap, but hesitated a
moment; he cast one frightened glance up and
down at the swaying mast and furious sea, and
then rushed across the deck and down into the
forecastle. In about two minutes he appeared,
and without a word seized the rattlings—the
rope-ladders of the vessel—and flew up the rig-
ging like a squirrel. With dizzy eyes the
weather beaten crew watched the poor boy at
this fearful height. ‘‘ He will never come down
alive,’’ they said to each other.

But in twenty minutes the perilous job
was done, and the boy safely descended, and
straightening himself up, with a smile on his
face walked to the stern of the ship.

‘“‘What did you go below for when ordered
aloft?”’ asked a passenger of the brave boy.

“‘T went—to pray,’ replied the boy with a
blush, and a quiver of the lip.

a 8

_A Home Missionary.

‘‘T am a home missionary,” once observed
a Christian mother, ‘‘six pairs of little eyes are
daily watching my looks, as well as listening to
my words; and I wish my children never to see

in me that which they may not imitate.” ~*~

.