The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1880, Page 47

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The Lutheran Pioneer. 47

The Sweetest Story. and peace on earth and good will to all men.
Oh, it was nice, teacher. ‘I'll tell mother
about it,’ I thought. When I got home I ran
up stairs, but the door was locked, and mother
wasn’t there. I knew then that she had gone
out to get drunk. Isat up all of a heap across
our door, thinkin’ if I got to sleep and mother
came home she would be sure to tumble over
me and see that I was there. And I soon
dreamt of the angels that sang in the Christmas
night, and I dreamt of mother too. Mother
ain’t unkind, teacher; but after father died she
took to drinkin’. I loves her and I pray to
Jesus to take that wicked drink away from her.”

“That's right, Jessie; I am glad you pray to
Jesus. Tell Him everything. Did your mother
come home at last?”’

“No, teacher, she didn’t. When it got day-
light I went out of the house and went about
the market and picked up bits of orange peel
to eat. Ididn’t have no supper last night, and
no breakfast this morning. I’m so hungry and
so cold.’’

I went over to a shop and came back with
something to eat. ‘‘Here, Jessie, here is a
little Christmas gift for you.’’ A smile crossed
her little white face as she said thanks and be-
gan to eat, whilst her eyes were still eagerly
looking down the street. Suddenly she cried
out to me, ‘’Tisa-comin’, teacher, ’tis a-comin’.”’
She was right. ‘The prisoners’ wagon drove up
and stopped close by where we were standing.
The last that came out of the wagon was a
most wretched looking woman. Jessie pushed
through the crowd and cried out, ‘‘Mother,
mother, look at me; I am here, your little
girl!’? The mother looked confused at seeing
her child there.

Jessie went into the court, and I went on my
way, thinking of the dreadful account which
many parents must give unto God for their
children and of little Jessie’s sad Christmas
Day and how happy she still was by faith in
her dear Saviour, and I prayed to Jesus to take
care of little Jessie in her early sorrows.

I.

Four years have passed by. It is Christmas
Day again—a cold winter afternoon. The day
is fine, and the sun‘is peeping out for a little
while, just to cheer the ward in the infirmary,
where many poor women and children are ly-
ing very ill. In a corner ‘of the room by the
window, on a little hard bed, is a young girl.
She looks about thirteen years of age. Her
face, though thin, is. very sweet and pretty.
I pass on softly by each bed, giving a nod and
asmile to the suffering. The nurse came up
to me and said—

“Your Jessie is dying, ma'am.”

‘Hush, hush, nurse!”’ I said; ‘don’t speak
so loud; the child will hear you.””

“My Jessie’’ did hear the remark, and said
to me: ‘‘Never mind, teacher; its all right.
Tam very, very happy.”

My duvlings if T hed a home I would take
you to it: you should not die here.’”

“Come closer to me, teacher dear; my eyes
are getting so dim. I can’t see you, but I
know your voice so well. I know ’tis you. I
want to tell you something. There are lots of
women here, and they are very ill, but they
don’t love Jesus. They swear, and it frightens
me. Ihave talked to them when I could, and
told them about the loving Saviour who came
into the world tp save all sinners—you know
that sweet Christmas story, teacher, I told them
all about it, and that I believed in that Saviour,
and that He had taken away all my sins, and
that I was going to heaven to be with Jesus for
ever. Dear teacher, I don’t fret that I am
here. There was no room for the little Jesus
in the inn, and He was laid in a hard manger
ina stable. You won't leave me?”’

“No, darling,’’ I said, ‘‘I will not leave you.”’

She seemed to be dozing a little. And asI
looked at her, my thoughts ran back to that
snowy Christmas morning four years before,
when I had found little Jessie shivering in the
cold, watching for the prisoners’ wagon in Bow
Street.

She soon opened her eyes and said—

‘Tis a-comin’, teacher, ’tis a-comin’!”’

‘What, dear?”’

‘A beautiful gold carriage, Jesus: is sendin’
for His little Jessie. My Jesus, here am I—
lots of angels that sang at Bethlehem—I see—
teacher, kiss me. Tell Polly Bruce my favorite
text for a keepsake. There—remaineth—
therefore—a rest—to the’people—of God. Jesus
lay in a manger—and I—shall lie on His bosom
—and wear—a crown of gold.”’

She ceased to speak. I thought she was
sleeping. The daylight had gone away; the
room was dark; but when they had lit up the
gas, I saw that my Jessie's happy spirit had
left her suffering body. Oh! I gladly would
have gone with my dear Jessie on that Christ-
mas Day to the eternal joys of heaven. ‘‘There
shall be no night there; and they need no
candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord
God giveth them light; and they shall reign
for ever and ever.’ Yes, it was a happy, a
happy Christmas Day for my dear little Jessie.

—_——-<P oe

“Unto You is Born a Saviour.”

“See, we are not sleepy, mother;
Look how wide awake we seem;
Tell us something sweet to think of,

Tell us something sweet to dream.

“Tell the very sweetest story
That you ever heard or read,
And you’ll see that we remember
Every single word you've said.”
Then I told them of a midnight
In the very long ago
When the sky was full of angels,
And from every shining row,

In voice of heavenly music,
Came a loving message, given
For the sake of one sweet baby
That had come that night from heaven;

That was born so poor, so lowly
In a stable far away,

And was laid into a manger
On a bed of straw and hay;

That had come to be the Saviour
Of all sinners here below,

To redeem them all from sorrow
And from hell’s eternal woe.

Four blue eyes and two sweet voices
Waited till my tale was done—

Then they cried, ‘‘Why that was Jesus!
Christmas, Christmas time is come!”

> oo ae

Jessie’s two Christmas Days.

I.

I went through Bow Street one Christmas
morning. ‘The snow had fallen thickly during
the night. The sky was clear, but the wind
was very cold, making me feel thankful to God
for warm clothing and good food. As I walked
along, my eyes rested on a little girl about nine
years old. She was a scholar of a ragged school
where I had the honor of being a teacher. She
was standing by the police court and looking
down the street. I stopped and said to the
child: ‘Well, Jessie, dear, what are you doing
here, standing alone in this place, your little
face almost blue with cold?”

“Please, teacher,” said Jessie, [I'm a-watch-
ing for the big wagon what brings ’em up here
of a morning.’’

“Brings whom, Jessie?”’

“Them prisoners, teacher, what’s took up by
the policemen in the streets of a night.”

‘“<But who is it you expect to see in the pris-
oner’s wagon, my child?’’

“Js mother,” said Jessie, looking grave
and sad.

“Qh, Iam sorry to hear that, dear Jessie.
How did your mother get there?”

“Taint the first time, teacher. Last night
when I left school I was so happy, it was so
nice. I was a-thinking of that sweet Christmas
‘story you told us from the Bible of the love of.
God’s Son who came from heaven to be our

‘Saviour and was born in Bethlehem as a little
‘child and was Jaid in a hard manger and took
all our sins upon Himself; and of the many
angels that sung to the shepherds on the field
that sweet/Christmas song about glory to God

These words should melt heaven and earth,
and change, for us, death into sugar, and all
misfortunes, of which there are here more than
can be told, into pure, sweet wine. For what
man is there who can properly conceive of this,
that the Son of God is born man, a Saviour
for us? Such treasure the angel gives not
only to His mother, the virgin Mary, but to all
of us: men; “‘unto you,’’ he says, “‘is born a
Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.’’—Juther.

Christmas.

‘what season is better of all the whole year,
Thy needy, poor neighbor to comfort and cheer???

‘¢Come, Jesus, glorious, heavenly Guest,
Keep Thine own Christmas in our breast.”?