# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1890_S47 # Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration) tr The Lutheran Pioneer. 47 Jessie’s Two Christmas Days. looking down the street. Suddenly she cried out to me, ‘‘’Tis a-comin’, teacher, ’tis a-comin’.” She was right. The prisoners’ wagon drove up and stopped close by where we were standing. The last that came out of the wagon was a most wretched looking woman. Jessie pushed through the crowd and cried out, ‘‘“Mother, mother, look at me; I am here, your little girl!’’ The mother looked confused at seeing her child there. Jessie went into the court, and I went on my way, thinking of the dreadful account which many parents must give unto God for their children and of little Jessie’s sad Christmas day and how happy she still was by faith in her dear Saviour, and I prayed to Jesus to take care of little Jessie in her early sorrows. for His little Jessie. My Jesus, here am I— lots of angels that sang at Bethlehem—I see —teacher, kiss me. Tell Polly Bruce my favorite text for a keepsake. There—re- maineth—therefore—a rest—to the people—of God. Jesus Jay in a manger—and I—shall lie on His bosom—and wear—a crown of gold.” She ceased to speak. I thought she was sleeping. The daylight had gone away; the room was dark; but when they had lit up the gas, I saw that my Jessie’s happy spirit had left her suffering body. Oh! I gladly would have gone with my dear Jessie on that Christ- mas day to the eternal joys of heaven. ‘There shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light; and they shall reign for ever and ever.” Yes, it was a happy, a happy Christmas day for my dear little Jessie. I. I went through Bow street one Christmas morning. The snow had fallen thickly during the night. The sky was clear, but the wind was very cold, making me feel thankful to God for warm clothing and good food. AsI walked along, my eyes rested on a little girl about nine years old. She was a scholar of a ragged school where I had the honor of being a teacher. She was standing by the police court and look- ing down the street. I stopped and said to the child: ‘‘Well, Jessie, dear, what are you doing here, standing alone in this place, your little face almost blue with cold?”’ ‘Please, teacher,’’ said Jessie, ‘I’m a-watch- ing for the big wagon what brings ’em up here of a morning.’”’ “Brings whom, Jessie?’’ “Them prisoners, teacher, what’s took up by the policemen in the streets of a night.’’ “But who is it you expect to see in the prisoners’ wagon, my child?”’ “Tt’s mother,’’ said Jessie, looking grave and sad. “Oh, I am sorry to hear that, dear Jessie. How did your mother get there?”’ ‘Taint the first time, teacher. Last night when I left school I was so happy, it was 80 nice. I was a-thinking of that sweet Christmas story you told us from the Bible of the love of God’s Son, who came from heaven to be our Saviour and was born in Bethlehem as a little child and was laid in a hard manger and took all our sins upon Himself; and of the many angels that sung to the shepherds on the field that sweet Christmas song about glory to God and peace on earth and good. will to all men. Oh, it was nice, teacher. ‘I'll. tell mother about it,’ I thought. When I got home I ran up stairs, but the door was locked, and mother wasn't there. I knew then, that she had gone out to get drunk. I sat up all of a heap across our door, thinkin’ if I got to sleep and mother came home she would be sure to tumble over me and see that I was there. And I soon dreamt of the angels that sang in the Christ- mas night, and I dreamt of mother too. Mother ain’t unkind, teacher; but after father died she took to drinkin’. I loves her and I pray to Jesus to take that wicked drink away from her.”’ “That’s right, Jessie; I am glad you pray to Jesus. ‘Tell Him everything. Did your mother come home at last?”’ ‘No, teacher, she didn’t. Whenit got day- light I went out of the house and went about the market and picked up bits of orange peel to eat. I didn’t have no supper last night, and no breakfast this morning. I’m so hungry and 80 cold.” I went over to a shop and came back with something to eat. ‘‘Here, Jessie, here is a little Christmas gift for you.’? A smile crossed her little white face as she said thanks and began to eat, whilst her eyes were still eagerly I. Four years have passed by. It is Christmas day again—a cold winter afternoon. The day is fine, and the sum is peeping out for a little while, just to cheer the ward in the infirmary, where many poor women and children are lying very ill. In a corner of the room by the window, on a little hard bed, is a young girl. She looks about thirteen years of age. Her face, though thin, is very sweet and pretty. I pass on softly by each bed, giving a nod and a smile to the suffering. The nurse came up to me and said— “Your Jessie is dying, ma’am.”’ ‘‘Aush, hush, nurse!’’ I said; ‘don’t speak so loud; the child will hear you.” ‘My Jessie’’ did hear the remark, and said to me: “Never mind, teacher; it’s all right. I am very, very happy.” “‘My darling, if I had a home, I would take you to it; you should not die here.” “Come closer to me, teacher dear; my eyes are getting so dim. I can’t see you, but I know your voice so well. Iknow’tis you. I want to tell you something. There are lots of women here, and they are very ill, but they don’t love Jesus. They swear, and it frightens me. I have talked to them when I could, and told them about the loving Saviour, who came into the world to save all sinners—you know that sweet Christmas story, teacher, I told them all about it, and that I believed in that Saviour, and that He had taken away all my sins and that I was going to heaven to be with Jesus forever. Dear teacher, I don’t fret that I am here. There was no room for the little Jesus in the inn, and He was laid in a hard manger ina stable. You won't leave me?”’ “No, darling,’ I said, ‘I will not leave you.”” She seemed to be dozing a little. And as I looked at her, my thoughts ran back to that snowy Christmas morning four years before, when I had found little Jessie shivering in the cold, watching for the prisoners’ wagon in Bow street. She soon opened her eyes and said— ‘<*Tig a-comin’, teacher, ’tis a-comin’!”? “What, dear?” “A beautiful gold carriage, Jesus is sendin’ ——> +4 oro On Christmas Day, in the year 1538, Doctor Martin Luther was very joyous, and all his sayings, songs, and thoughts were about the birth of Christ our Saviour. And he said, with a deep sigh, ‘‘Ah! we poor human creatures, how coldly and tamely we greet this joy which has come to bless us! This is the great act of love which far excels all works of creation. And shall we so feebly believe it, when it has been announced to us, preached, and sung by the angels? Heavenly theologians and preachers, indeed! And they have rejoiced on our account and their song is verily a glorious song, wherein is briefly enfolded the sum of the whole Christian religion. For the ‘Glory to God in the highest’ is the highest worship, and this they bring to us in this Christ. 0 0 Accept the Tidings! The Christmas tidings, says Luther, require faith which accepts them as true, and firmly holds against all doubts, that the Saviour is surely born. This faith quiets the heart, £0 that thou wilt not charge God with falsehood through thy unbelief, as they do who refuse to believe and thus lose their Saviour. Where this faith is wanting, Christ, as the Son of Gud, is denied by those who will not confess their sins, nor acknowledge Him as their Saviour, as well as by those who feel their condemnation and confess their guilt, but do not faithfully receive the consolation, that Christ is their Saviour. _——— oP oe oe - Unto You a Saviour is Born. That is, God’s wrath, damnation, and eternal death shall no longer threaten you, but rather, through the obedience of the Son of God who is born for you, there is prepared for you re- conciliation with God, forgiveness of sins, and everlasting salvation and freedom from all that oppresses and saddens your heart.—auther.