# The Lutheran Pioneer_St. Louis_1927_S143
# Machine transcription, uncorrected — CHI Digital Archive (demonstration)

142

THE LUTHERAN PIONEER.

she went to ask her mother. When her mother shook
her head, the concern in little Aretta’s heart grew
deeper. “Mother, I want to be baptized.” She said
it once, hesitantly; she said it again, a few days
later, more insistently. Mother thought there was
still time, and the matter did not need to be hurried.
But Aretta could not wait. She went to her teacher
and told him she wanted to be baptized. Then with
him she came to the pastor and said the same thing.
Why did she want to be baptized? Because Jesus
had commanded it, and she wanted to be saved and
go to heaven some day. Very well; would she go
home and tell her mother once more? She would.
The teacher also went to the parents, as well as the
pastor. They consented.

With her little hand in her teacher’s hand she
came to the altar one Sunday morning and with
her own lips answered the questions addressed to
her. With simple, childlike grace she held her head
over the font and received the pledge which con-
firmed to her the grace of God and her acceptance
into the kingdom of God. It was a happy day for
little Aretta and an impressive ceremony for all who
witnessed it. The little girl’s example was soon
after followed by five other children from our day-
school and Sunday-school.

There are millions of unbaptized children in
this so-called Christian country of ours. Hundreds
of thousands of these, like Aretta Blair, would ask
to be baptized if they were but told of the blessing
and power of Baptism. — But how can they be told
if we do not send more missionaries into the field?
And how can we send missionaries unless we bring
more generous and more frequent gifts for the great
cause of missions ?

I Would My Savior Were Your
Savior Too.

The heat of the long day had been terrible. Man.\

and beast alike gasped under the intensity of the
sun’s rays and sought what shelter they could. Even
the trees seemed to droop and bend under fiery rain.
‘When evening came and the sun sank in red and
gold splendor, the earth seemed to cool off a bit,
and slowly the streets filled again with people tak-
ing the air.

All the European children in charge of ayahs
(nurses) and bearers made their way to the gardens
to play among the fountains and trees, while their
' attendants gossiped and retailed the news of

And would that my Savior
Were your Savior too.

Thus sang an old ayah as she minded her little
charge. The bank-house ayah and the college ayah
came up together. These two-were very proud be-
cause they worked for Burra Sahibs. As soon as
they heard the old ayah, they mocked her in
derision. “Old Mother, are not Gunga and Jumna
deep and wide enough to save you that you must
sing aloud of another Savior?” they asked.

Could some unseen missionary have witnessed the
ensuing scene, all his heartaches and yearnings over
dark India would have seemed worth while; for the
old ayah, with the Light of heaven aflame in her
faded old eyes, told the old, old story, —told it so
simply and feelingly that all idle chatter of home
and bazaar ceased.

Her audience was large and varied. Ayahs,
bearers, tailors, hurrying home from work, clerks
from the court, tonga wallas (cart-pushing venders),
and gardeners. It was the story of Love that won
them. How could a King’s Son love us, poor,
ignorant, depraved? He loved each one of us so
greatly that He came to earth to die for us.

When going-home time came, there was a
strange unrest, and yet peace, in many hearts. The
bank-house ayah wheeled her charge home to the

tune of — And would that my Savior

Were your Savior too.

And when she went to her village, she told her
farmer husband to ask Yisy Masih, the King of
Love, to hear his prayer. And next morning the
college: ayah’s mother, drawing water at the well,
was telling many other women of Christ, who loved
the poor and came to earth to die for sinners.

“And some seed fell on good ground and bore
fruit, some thirtyfold, some sixtyfold and some an

hundredfold.” 7,

- A Colored Martyr:

A young African Negro, ten years old, heard
a missionary preach and was very much impressed
by the sermon. When his master, who was an old
and bitter enemy of missionaries, heard of it, he
commanded him not to go there again; if he did,
he would be beaten to death. This order brought
the boy into great perplexity. He could hardly keep
from going again, and yet he felt that, if he did,
he would certainly have to suffer death.

In his perplexity he sought advice and help at
the Throne of Grace and soon experienced that it
was his duty calmly to await the outcome, not to

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