# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1900_S39
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

‘The Lutheran Pioneer.

SS

39

Harvest Home and Mission Festival at
Gold Hill, N.C.

On the third Sunday of August, the con- |

gregations of Rev. Engelbert, ‘‘Concordia’”’
of Rockwell and ‘‘Grace’’ of Gold Hill, cele-
brated their Harvest Home and Mission Fes-
tival in the chapel of the latter.
—Brother Schmidt of Greensboro and the
undersigned — arrived on the scene, after a
trip of sixteen miles over North Carolina’s
celebrated mud and dust roads, we were
greeted by a great assemblage of people of
all ages and all sizes. In the first place,
there were the members of both congrega-
tions in full force, old acquaintances every
one of them; and it was especially gratify-

ing to see the old familiar faces and to shake |

hands once again with the people who, until
Rey. Engelbert took them in
charge, through the relation-
ship of pastor and flock had en-
deared themselves to the writer.
Then there were the friends and
neighbors of our members, who
again brought their acquaint-
ances, together with their kith
and kin and children and chil-
dren’s children from miles
around. After somewhat re-
cuperating from the physical
exertion of shaking hands all
around, and returning the
friendly salutations, all repaired
to the church, and those that
could find accommodation. filled
the benches from pulpit to door.
And as this was an extraordi-
nary occasion, extraordinary
efforts had been made by the
good people in tastefully deco-
rating their little chapel with
the fruits of the orchard and
the field. There were first and chiefly
watermelons galore, of which not many live
to tell the tale. There were apples and
peaches and pumpkins and squashes and
gourds. Then, artistically arranged into
arches and columns, cornstalks, bundles of
wheat, etc. In short, the whole exterior and
interior of the little church, together with the
welcoming smiles, the beaming faces and the
hearty greetings of the people, made a pleas-
ing impression on the visitor. After an organ
prelude, the morning services were begun,
in which Rey. J. C. Schmidt of Greensboro
preached the Mission Sermon, basing his dis-
course on Col, 4,3, his remarks being listened
to with marked attention by young and old.
Shortly before the close of the morning’s serv-
ices, Rev. Bakke and wife of Charlotte and
Rey. J. Ph. Schmidt of Concord with the en-
tire Concord delegation arrived, somewhat
shaken up from their acquaintance with the
inimitable highways of ‘‘The Old North
State.’” However—as a kind of recompense

—a well-set table, improvised under: ®: shady |.

When we|

| arbor, awaited them and the rest of the mis-
|sionaries and guests. And what a dinner
|of multitudinous and palatable dishes our
women of both congregations had provided
|for us! There were, greeting the eyes of the
|hungry missionary: roasted chicken; North
| Carolina biscuits, which some irreverent and
unknowing person has termed ‘‘sinkers’’ ; jel-
|lies; pies of all sizes, all descriptions, all
|makes, and all tastes. Indeed, the good
people had exerted themselves in their hos-
pitality to make it as pleasant as possible for
their missionaries and their brethren and sis-
| ters in the faith who had come from Concord,
|Salisbury, Mt. Pleasant, and the neighboring
stations, to join with them in the songs to
| God’s praise and the general happiness of the
occasion.

In the afternoon services, Rey. Bakke, the

Colored Lutheran Chapel and Congregation at Gold Hill, N.C.

founder of both congregations, delivered the
Harvest Home sermon, and in the evening the
undersigned preached on the Gospel lesson for
the day: Luke 19, 41—44, taking asa subject:
“The Evil of Postponement.”

Services were closed with the beautiful little
hymn: ‘‘God be with us till we meet again,”’
after which we took reluctant leave from our
genial people of Gold Hill and Rockwell con-
gregations, and the half-hidden moon, dimly
falling upon the tall pines and sycamores,
found us—Brother J. C. Schmidt and myself
on the road again back to Salisbury. But
in our hearts reverberated the closing strains
of the service: ‘‘God be with us till we meet
again.”” Yes, God be with us till we all, mis-
sionaries and flock, old and young, great and
small, white and colored, meet in the celestial
mansions of our Eternal Father in heaven, to-
gether with the Holy Spirit, and Jesus Christ,
our dear Redeemer and Saviour, praised for-
evermore! Amen. G.S.

—_ oP or

How God Teaches the Birds.

On an island of Java grows a tree the leaves
of which are said to be a deadly poison to all
venomous reptiles. The odor of the leaf is so
offensive to the whole snake family that if they
come near the plant in their travels they im-
mediately turn about and take an opposite
direction.

A traveler on the island noticed one day a
peculiar fluttering and cry of distress from a
bird high above his head. Looking up, he
saw a mother-bird hovering round 4 nest of
little ones in such a frightened and perplexed
manner as to cause him to stop and examine
into the trouble. Going around to the other
side_of the tree, he found a large snake climb-
ing slowly up the tree in the direction of the
little nest.

It was beyond his reach and,
since he could not help the little
feathered songster by dealing a
death-blow, he sat down to see
the result of the attack. Soon
the piteous cry of the bird
ceased, and he thought, ‘‘Can
it be possible she has left her
young to their fate and has flown
away to seek her own safety ?”’

No; for again he heard a flut-
tering of wings, and, looking
up, saw her fly into the tree
with a large leaf from this tree
of poison and carefully spread
it over her little ones. Then,
alighting on a branch high above
her nest, she quietly watched
the approach of her enemy.
His ugly, writhing body crept
slowly along, nearer and still
nearer, until within a foot of the
nest; then, justas he opened his
mouth to take in his dainty little
breakfast, down he went to the ground as sud-
denly as though a bullet had gone through his
head, and hurried off into the jungle beyond.

The little birds were unharmed; and as the
mother-bird flew down aad spread her wings
over them, the poison-leaf. (poison only to the
snake) fell at the feet of the traveler; and he
felt, as never before, the force of the beauti-
ful words, ‘‘Are not two sparrows sold for a
farthing? yet not one of them shall fall to the
ground without your Father;”’ for who but
He who made the dear little birds could have
told this one the power there was ir this little
leaf.— Good Words.

—_> o-oo

Heaven.

A little girl was gazing up at the starry sky
one clear night. She seemed to be very much
occupied in thinking about something. Her
mother said to her, ‘‘What are you thinking
about, my dear?’’ 3
- Oh, mamma,” she said, ‘‘T was thinking
if the outside of heaven is so beautiful, how
very beautiful it must be inside.’ ;