# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1893_S31 # Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration) The Lutheran Pioneer. 31 DN — EEE — ET The Pledged Violin. streets in Hamburg by the author and com- poser, they were beautiful past all expression. Suddenly the key changed a few bars to the minor, and then their melody poured itself out anew, as Neumark’s face lighted up with a smile and he sang: each turn by turn, swelled out the words of his own sweet hymn: “If thou but suffer God to guide thee, And hope in Him through all thy ways, He'll give thee strength what’er betide thee, And bear thee through the evil days; Who trusts in God’s unchanging love Builds on the Rock that naught can move.” When asked if he made the hymn himself, George Neumark modestly replied: ‘Well, yes; Lam the instrument, God swept the keys. These words, ‘Who trusts in God’s unchanging love,’ lay like a soft burden on my heart. I went over them again, and so they shaped themselves into the song—how, I can not tell. I began to sing and pray for joy, and my soul blessed the Lord; then word fol- lowed word like from a fountain.’’ May we be able each one to repeat Neu- mark’s beautiful thought in our lives. ‘‘Iam the instrument, but God sweeps the keys.’’ ‘¢T will lend thee seven florins upon the in- strument. It is not worth so much; nowhere else wouldst thou meet with such an offer.’ The speaker—a pawnbroker by trade, a Ger- man by nationality, a Jew by birth—peered a little curiously at the customer before him ashe spoke. In his hand he held a beautiful little violin worth far more than the trifling sum lent upon it. But the young man opposite him looked so hungry, so shabby, so hopeless, that he aroused only a feeling of extra cupidity in the dealer’s heart. - “Seven florins. It is far above the value of such an instrument as this, it is good only .for firewood. But there! seven florins, and if not redeemed in a fortnight, to become my property.’”’ George Neumark had tears in his eyes as he gazed at his beloved violin. For ten years that little stringed instrument had been his companion and comforter. Brought with him from his birth-place, Langensalza, he had clung to it through every privation; clothing, even food had been gone without, but his violin had never been parted with. Now it had to go at last, and for so small a sum! No wonder the young man’s lips quivered; well he knew that once out of his hands— once pledged for seven florins to the German Jew —he would never be able’to redeem it. Never to play on it again, never to speak to his heart through the sensi- tive musical strings? The thought was almost more than he could bear. i ‘*Mr. Schmidt,’’ he said at last, ‘‘I must take your offer, but allow me to play a last tune on my dear violin. At the worst — and, alas! it is the very worst with me now —it has spoken to me and sung back all my courage and hope.”’ With much reluctance the Jew reached the violin over the counter. It was a valuable prize, and if once again in the young student's hand, he might refuse to part with it. ‘¢Thou hast the florins; here they are,’’ he said, pushing the coins toward the white, trem- bling fingers that were aching to take up the violin. ‘‘No backing from thy bargain. Thine the florins, mine the fiddle.” ‘Of all the sad hearts that have left your door, there has none been so sad as mine,’’ replied the young man, his voice thick with emotion. ‘Only one more message through my friend.”’ : : _ Seizing the violin, the musician placed _ it lovingly beneath his chin and stretched out the bow firmly. Next moment a tune so ex- quisite, soft and musical throbbed out into the dusty room and even old Joe listened in spite of himself. A few chords, a few strains, and then a rich voice took up the melody: «‘Vife, so weary! Saviour, take me.”” The words were well known then; they are better known now. Sung as they were in that most obscure shop in one of the most obscure ‘*Yet who knows? The cross is precious.’’ With that smile his renunciation was com- plete. Laying down the instrument, he said in Latin, ‘‘God’s will be done!’’ and rushed out from the place. ‘Can you tell me where I can get that song? I would willingly give a florin for it.”’ The speaker, a well-to-do, portly individual, laid his hand on George Neumark’s sleeve as the young man ran out into the gathering dark- ness, leaving his beloved violin in the Jew’s keeping. George was yet quivering from the violence of his emotion, and it was rather a choking voice that replied: ‘My good friend, I will cheerfully fulfill your wish without the florin ;”” for had he not seven pieces in his doublet-pocket,.and would he sell the child of his brain! Taking the stranger into his poor lodging, he gave a copy of the hymn and little by little related the story-of his grief at pledging his instrument. Very skillfully his visitor put question after question until he understood something of the musician’s history. Tears stood in honest John Gutig’s eyes as he listened to the tale of poverty and privation so nobly borne. John Gutig was a valet in the service of Baron Von Rosenkranz, the Swedish Ambas- sador, to the city of Hamburg. Next day the Baron was in possession of George Neumark’s history. He was told of the hapless musi- cian’s poverty, his musical skill, his beautiful hymns, his beloved violin, and when at length he heard him himself he was as much en- chanted as John Gutig had been. “‘T am not in need of a court musician,’’ he said smiling at the paled, young eager stu- dent, ‘‘but I do want a private secretary. Will you accept the post? No one need to say what was George Neu- mark’s answer. ‘The situation offered meant comparative wealth and freedom from care. It meant more—even the possession of his beloved instrument. His first step was toward the den of Mr. Schmidt. The Jew was quite taken aback at the redemption of so valuable a pledge;. with a sigh he gave it up, for with it went his hopes of a great bargain. Towards his old lodgings George Neumark |” next took his way. His landlady had always taken a deep interest in his tribulations ; she must be a sharer also in his joy. In a few minutes the room was crowded with friends and neighbors anxious to hear him play again upon his instrument. Bow in hand, he stood considering for an instant how he could best preach a sermon of trust in a living, loving God. Then soft and low, glad and triumphant, — Heathen Superstition. ‘‘After the open-preaching,’’ says a mis- sionary in China, ‘‘I was going home, when I met a young woman walking slowly along the street holding up a large green umbrella, though it was quite fine, and carrying a lighted lantern, though it was quite light, and with a child’s garment on her arm. She was plain- tively calling someone by name. The poor thing was looking for the departed soul of her sick child! Everyone, you know, is supposed to have three souls, and the child was so sick it was evident one of its souls had already de- parted and was hovering about in the neigh- borhood. She was calling it to come back; the lantern was to enable it to find its way; the child’s garment on her arm it would: at once recognize and reinhabit; and the um- brella overhead would protect it from the sun and make it otherwise snug and comfortable. On her return to the house she would lay the garment on her child, and the recaptured soul, thus conducted back, would enter in and dis- pel the sickness!’ —_—s +o or oo “1 Just Begged.” A missionary in Jamaica called on a sick boy who had been near death. with me, sir,”’ said the boy. ‘‘But, Thomas, I hope you prayed your- self ?”’ ‘€Oh yes, sir.” missionary. : ‘Why, sir, I just begged and begged!”’ ——q@ oo a ‘ A REMARK of an old minister is commended to all preachers who are tempted to complain of a small congregation: —‘‘It is as large a congregation, perhaps, as you will want to aC- count for at the day of judgment.”” 5 “