# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1909_S45
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

The Lutheran Pioneer.

45

work. This he also found, but the wages were so
small that they were hardly enough to feed and
clothe the large family of nine children. In those
days of great poverty and need she would often
worry and be discouraged and sad and downhearted.

One evening, she said, she was alone with her
nine-year-old boy, whose name was Christian. The
boy, a bright child, was memorizing the multipli-
cation table. When he came to the number 1000,
he all at once said as he looked at his sorrowful
mother: “O that some one would make us a present
of one thousand dollars !”

The mother replied, “Yes, my boy, then we
should get along well, pay all debts, and he well off.”

“But, mother,” said the little boy, “poor Laza-
rus did not have one thousand dollars; and yet he
came to Abraham’s bosom.”

‘The words from the mouth of her child entered
the mother’s heart. She had him read from the
Bible the whole story of the rich man and poor
Lazarus, and learned that one may not have one
thousand dollars or any wealth whatever, and yet
get to heaven.

The boy is taken from this world and is, I doubt
not, with Lazarus in Abraham’s bosom. The aged
mother is still on earth, takes good care of her
grandchild, does not think of. getting rich, but heeds
the Savior’s words: “Seek ye first the kingdom of
God and His righteousness; and all these things
shall be added unto you,” Matt. 6, 33.

The simple faith of her child strengthened the
mother in the dark hour of sore trial and directed
her heart toward heaven. She may now often con-
sole herself with:the hymn of the pious Paul Ger-

hardt: :
Why should sorrow ever grieve me?

Christ is near,

Who can here

E’er of Him deprive me?
Who can rob me of my heaven
That God’s Son

As my own

To my faith hath given?

— oo

A Story of Faith.
So
Some time ago I stood by the bedside of a sick
laborer who had a wife and four children. He had
lain sick for three weeks, and the sickness had ex-
hausted all his means. Noticing that he was weep-
ing while we sang a precious song of Zion, I asked
him why he wept? was he troubled with the thought
of parting with his wife and children? He looked

at me steadfastly, almost reproachfully, and an-
swered:

“Does not Jesus stay with them? Has not the
Lord said that He is a Father to the fatherless, and
a Judge of the widow? No; they are all cared for.
I have prayed the Lord that He would be their
guardian. Is it not so, wife? You are not troubled;
you are not afraid; you believe in Jesus.”

“Surely,” she replied, “I believe in Jesus, and
rejoice that you go to Jesus. I shall follow you,
with the children, in His own time. Jesus will
help me to train up the children through His Holy
Spirit.”

“Why did you weep, then?” I asked.

“For joy; for I thought if the singing is so
beautiful here, O, how beautiful will it be when
the angels help in it! I wept for joy that this
blessedness is so near.”

Then he motioned to his wife. She understood,
and went to the shelf, and brought down a little
saucer in which her husband kept his money. There
were six groschen (about seven pence) in it, all that
remained of his store. He took them out with
trembling fingers, and laid them in my hand, and
said:

“The heathen must have these, that they may
know how to die in peace.”

I turned to his wife who nodded assent and said:

“We have talked it over already. When every-
thing has been reckoned for the funeral, these six
groschen remain.”

“And what remains for you?”

“The Lord Jesus,” she replied.

“And what do you leave for your wife and
children ?” :

“The Lord Jesus,” he said; and whispered in
my ear, “He is very good, and very rich.”

So I took the six groschen, and laid them in the
mission box as a great treasure, and it has been a
struggle for me to pay them away. But if they had
not been paid away, the dying man’s wish would
not have been fulfilled.

That night he fell asleep. And neither his wife
wept, nor his three oldest children — neither in the
church nor at the grave. But the youngest child,
a boy of about five years, who followed the body,
wept bitterly. I-asked him afterward why he wept
so bitterly at his father’s grave, and the child made
answer: i

“T was so sorry that father did not take me with
him to the Lord Jesus, for I begged of him with my
whole heart that he would take me.”