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The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1882, Page 29

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Concordia Seminary Library, St. Louis (scholar.csl.edu/lutheran_pioneer/4)

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The Mutheran Pioneer.

A MISSIONARY

MONTHLY.

PUBLISHED BY THE EVANGELICAL LutHeraN SynopicAL CoNnFERENCE oF NortH AMERICA.

R. A. BISCHOFF, Editor.

Entered at the Post Oflice at St. Louis, Mo., as second-class matter.

Vol. IV.

St. Louis, Mo., August, 1882.

No. 8.

A Dear Old Bible.

A few days ago an old English Lutheran
farmer from Pennsylvania came to our study
and brought us an old well-worn English Bible
which he requested us to place in our College
library. The Bible had been given to him in
the year 1817 when he was ten years old, and
he read it through 97 times. When his eyes
grew dim with old age, he was obliged to get a
Bible with larger print. ‘ But this Bible,’”’ he
said, ‘‘has been my dear companion and friend
for many years, and I would like to have it
preserved in a Lutheran library.”” We gladly
complied with the wish of the old Christian,
and gave. his dear old Bible a place in our
College library. There it stands as a wit-
ness of the power of God’s Word. No human
book could have been such a dear companion
and friend to the old Christian farmer. Such
a boek he might have read once or twice and
then he would have been done with it, be-
cause it could teach him nothing more, and to
read it again would have been like spending
time in going over the alphabet. But this
Bible he read ninety-seven times and found
something new, something fresh, something
unutterably sweet and comforting at each suc-
cessive reading. It passed with him through
days of sorrow and joy. Over its pages he
hung many a day and night with tears of con-
trition, with smiles of gladness and of hope.
When disappointment came, when the de-
sertion of those whom he trusted came, when
the bitterness of enemies came, when disease
came, when the last look upon the face of some
loved one came, when the deep shadow of a
grave came to rest upon his heart and home—
in every trying experience of his long life this
Bible was his dear friend and comforting com-
panion. ‘And I know,” he said, as he left our
study, ‘‘that on my dying-bed I will be sus-
tained by the sweet promises which I learned
from the dear old Bible.”

—> +oaror

Two Planks.

There were two planks laid across 2 stream,
one of which was sound and the other rotten.
A man came along and tried to walk on both,

but down he fell into the water. So he who
partly trusts in the righteousness of Christ and
partly in his own righteousness will surely fail
of eternal life. Christ is the only way to
heaven. ‘Neither is there salvation in any
other; for there is none other name under
heaven given among men whereby we must be
saved,’’ Acts 4, 12. It is not the work of
Christ and something added that saves us, but
the work of Christ alone, apart from anything
and everything we can do or feel, as having
the slightest merit in the sight of God. The
finished work of Jesus is the only sound plank

upon which sinners can cross over the river of -

death into eternal life. Don’t try to walk at
the same time upon the rotten plank of your
own righteousness, of your own good conduct,
of your good feelings, or of anything you find
in your own sinful self. It is a rotten plank.
And if a man tries to walk on a sound and a
rotten plank at the same time, he will as cer-
tainly fall into the water, as if neither were
strong enough to bear his weight. Trust only
in the finished work of Christ and you shall be
saved.

A minister was making a pastoral visit to an
old Scotch woman, who had for a long time
been trying to be saved. _Her cottage could be
reached only by passing over a rapid brook
that was bridged by a single plank. At first
he feared to venture up, but the woman seeing
his hesitation hurried from the door with the
cry, ‘‘Just trust it’’; and in a moment he stood
by her side. ‘‘Woman,” he said, ‘‘the blood
of Jesus Christ cleanseth us from.all sin ; just
trust it? She did give up trying to walk on
the rotten plank of her own efforts. She sim-
ply trusted in the blood of Jesus, and her peace
was like a river.

——>- oe

Believing Enough.

A short time ago, says a pastor, 2 woman
came to see me as an inquirer. Speaking to

cher about the Lord Jesus, I asked her what she

thought of Him. She replied, ‘I think He is
One who can do anything.” ‘Then He can
pardon your sins,’’ said I. «‘‘Yes,’’ she said,
“TI know He can pardon my sins, if I believe
enough.’”

After some further talk, which showed me
that she was, like many others, longing for
more faith, I took up my Bible, and, turning
to Acts 10, asked her to read aloud to me the
43d verse. She read as follows: ‘*To Him give
all the prophets witness, that through His name
whosoever believeth.in Him shall receive re-
mission of sins.’’ ‘*Have you not left out a
word?’”’ I asked. ‘*No.’’ - ‘‘Are you sure?”’
“Yes,” she replied, as her eye again ran over
the verse. ‘‘ Now, read it to me once more,’
I asked; and again she read the verse aloud.
When she had done so, I said, ‘‘Are you quite
sure you have not left out a word?’’ ‘Yes,
quite sure.” ‘‘Then,’ I said, ‘you and the
Apostle contradict each other; for he says,
‘whosoever believeth in Him,’ while you say,
‘whosoever believeth enough;’ now, who knows
best, and who is likely to be right?’

“The Apostle is right, quite right,’’ said the
woman, her eyes beaming with joy.

A Hard Way.

There is not a day passes but you can read
in the pages of the daily papers, “The way of
the transgressor is hard.’’ ‘

You go to the Tombs in New York City and
you will find a little iron bridge running from
the police court, where the men are tried, right
into the cells. The New York officials had put
up there in iron letters on that iron bridge,
“The way of the transgressor is hard.’’.

They know that it is true. Blot it out if you
can. God has saidit. Itistrue. ‘‘The way
of the transgressor is hard.’’

On the other side of that bridge they put
these words—‘‘A Bridge of Sighs.’’

I said to one of the officers, ‘‘What did they
put that up there for?”’

He replied that most of the young men—
for most of the criminals are young men—as
they pass over that iron bridge went over it
weeping. So they called it the Bridge of Sighs.

“What made you put that other, ‘The way
of the transgressor is hard’?’”

“Well,’’ he said, ‘‘it is hard. I think if you
had anything to do with the prison you would
believe that text, ‘The way of the transgressor
is hard.’”’—Selected.