# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1899_S3 # Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration) The Lutheran Pioneer. eo Jesus. “How sweet the name of Jesus sounds, In a believer’s car; It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, And drives away his fear. “It makes the wounded spirit whole, And calms the troubled breast; ‘Tis manna to the hungry soul, And to the weary rest.’’ ~ <> -e< ee - This Year Also. It was New Year’s day. ‘The people were on their way home from church. The minis- ter had preached on the parable of the barren fig tree which was to be cut down, but which was spared on account of the gardener’s prayer: ‘‘Lord, let it alone this year also, till I shall dig about it and dung it; and if it bear fruit, well; and if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down.’’ Two had sat together listening attentively to the sermon, and now they were walking to- gether down the road: an old and a young man. The old man was the smith of the vil- , lage, the young man had but lately arrived and had opened a shoe store opposite the smithy. As they walked along, the old man sighed deeply and wiped tears from his eyes. The young shoemaker looked at his neighbor with great surprise, saying, ‘‘Has the sermon af- fected you so deeply?’’? The old man nodded and on parting invited his young neighbor to visit him some evening, when he would tell him all. . So it happened that one evening the young shoemaker entered the room where his aged neighbor lived all by himself. He found him sitting at a table with an open Bible before him. The old man soon began the following story : “On the first day of January of the past year I lay there in bed very sick. My sins rose before my mind like high mountains. I had lived to be seventy years old, and still I was the slave of sin; I was a drunkard. My con- science spoke to me as in a voice of thunder: ‘Now you must die, and then comes the judg- ment.’ The parable of the barren fig tree came to my mind on that New Year’s day. I heard the terrible voice: ‘Cut him down! Seventy years, and no fruit! Seventy years, and stilla drunkard! Cut him down!’ I felt as if all strength had left me. I could only sigh from the bottom of my heart: ‘Have mercy! Oh, have mercy!’ I lay quiet for a while, thinking further on that parable. Theard the voice of the pleading gardener: ‘This year also! This year also.’ These words filled my heart with hope. ‘There was mercy for me. ‘The barren fig tree was to be spared this year also. Jesus was pleading for my soul. I soon recovered from my sickness and since that New Year’s day I am changed. T have come to my Saviour, and in Him I have found forgiveness of sins and strength to over- come sin. Now another New Year has come, and I am still living; but I am ready, yes, I am ready to die. May my end come to-day or to-morrow, I know that I shall fall asleep in Jesus.’’ The young man listened attentively to his neighbor’s story, and when he bade him good night, the old man held his hand and said, ‘Old people must die, young people may die! Therefore all should heed the voice of the pleading Jesus: ‘This year also!’’’ ———»— ome Too Late! Many years ago a rich merchant of New York went South and married a wealthy and cultured young lady. The young couple took up their dwelling in New York and soon be- came prominent in ‘‘high society.’’ The wife had been brought up in a Christian family and had been known for her piety and her kind- ness towards the poor and the sick. However, since her husband, whom she considered very smart, did not care for religion, she soon adopted his views of life. Her Bible and her hymn book were laid aside, and the services of God’s house were neglected. The pleasures of this world took possession of her heart. Her, time was given up to society, to the the- atre, and to dancing. How to dress and adorn herself according to the latest fashion was with her the most important question. About twelve years ago she traveled to some distant friend. During the journey a terrible wreck occurred, in which she was seriously injured. She was taken to the next station and a doctor was called from the near- est village. Of his meeting with the lady the doctor says: It was one of the most painful experi- ences I ever had. I had to tell her that she had but an hour to live. She would not be- lieve that her case was so serious. “JT must go home,”’ she said, ‘‘I must go to New York.”’ ‘Mrs. L., that is impossible. Moving you now would only shorten your life.’’ She lay on the floor; the brakemen had rolled up their cloaks to furnish her a pillow. “7 have but one hour to live? Is that what you said, doctor?’’ “Tt is my painful duty to tell you so.” She sighed deeply: ‘‘Thus I must end! What is left to me of the world? It is not much, doctor,’’ she said with a bitter smile. The men left the room, and I closed the door lest she might be disturbed. For a while she lay silent; then she said with great excitement: ‘How much good could I haye done! All the moncy, all the time I had! All was wasted! Now it is too late! Only one hour to live!”’ My words of comfort were in vain. She grew more excited. “Doctor,’’ she said, ‘‘I wanted to shine in the world, I wanted to outshine all others, Great God, fashion, fashion! only one hour—one hour! But she had no hour. been too great. Soon after those last words she passed away. Nothing ever made such an impression on me as that cry of despair: ‘It is too late!”’ “The night cometh when no man can work.’’ Now I have It is too late!’’ Her excitement had — >see oe Nearer Home. An old man and a school-boy were sitting together in arailroad car. The boy had spent his vacations at his grandmother’s and was now on his way home. The old man, who was a great friend of children, delighted to converse with the modest little fellow. After a while the boy looked out of the window and said, ‘‘Now I am not far from my native town and from my mother.’”? His eyes beamed with joy as he related how his mother was expecting him, and how glad she would be when he came home. ‘Should I not be like this child?’’ thought the old man. ‘‘Should I not, even under the burdens of old age, rejoice, since I am com- ing nearer home every day? Should not my heart be filled with gladness on thinking how it will be when I come home over yonder where Jesus is waiting for me? Have not I also a window through which I may see my home in the distance? Have I not God’s Word in which my home is described and pointed out to me with all its bliss and joys? O the beauties of the mansion which Christ has prepared for me in my Father’s house!’ —— s+ o> Compassion of Jesus. Luther said, ‘“‘I would run into the arms of Christ if He stood with a drawn sword in His hands.’’ John Butterworth, reading this, re- solved to do likewise, and found, as every venturing sinner does, no sword in the hands of Christ, but open arms and a hearty wel- come. Jesus’ proclamation, forever sound- ing forth to every burdened heart, is, ‘‘Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy- laden, and I will give you rest.’” He demon- strated His marvelous compassion by dying for us; He will not now repulse the approach- ing sinner. + o> Christ is All. We have all things in Christ, and Christ is all things in us: if we are sick, He is a physi- cian; if we fear death, He is life; if we are in darkness, He is light; if we are in want, He is rich: if we are hungry, He is food; if we are thirsty, He is drink; if we are miser- able, He is mercy; if we are longing for heaven, He is the way.—St. Ambrose.