The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1884, Page 46

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The Lutheran Pioneer.

What think ye of Christ? Whose Son is He?

Throughout the world the birthday of Christ
will be observed with joyous festivity. But
the question arises, Who is Christ? Some
answer as did the Jews, the Son of David. This
is true, but He is also the Son of God. He is
both God and Man. Two natures are insepar-
ably united in Him, the divine and the human.
So that we can truly call Him the God-Man,
and can say that in Him God is Man, and Man
is God; that Mary bore the Son of God; ‘‘the
Lord of Glory’’ was crucified, and that ‘‘God
has redeemed”’ us with ‘‘His own blood.”” By
virtue of this personal union of the two natures,
Christ according to His humanity, has received
all power in heaven and on earth, and has been
made partaker of the majesty, honor, power
and glory of God. He has ascended up, not
only into heaven, but far above all heavens
that He might fill all things, and He is with
us always, even unto the end of the world.
And the two natures divine and human con-
stitute the One, true Christ, they cannot be
separated from each other, for Christ is not
divided. He who was born in Bethlehem,
suffered, was crucified, dead, buried, descended
into hell, rose from the dead and ascended on
high, was not God alone, nor Man alone, but
both Gop and Man; and He remains such for-
ever. “And we Lutherans can acknowledge no
other Christ than Him of whom, according to
the Scriptures, the above is true.

Those sects who deny this, and who, among
many other false doctrines concerning Christ,
teach of the christ in whom they believe, that
he is not able to give his body and blood in the
Sacrament, must have another Christ, an un-
reliable, weak and false christ.

Our Christ, however, is the almighty Christ,
who was made flesh and dwelt among us, and
we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only-

begotten of the Father full of grace and truth.
* —Church Messenger.

Little Carl’s Christmas Eve.

‘Come in!’’ shouted together the host and
hostess of a little German wayside inn near the
banks of the Rhine. It was Christmas eve
200 years ago, and a tempestuous night. The
wind was raving round the little inn, and the
snow was falling fast, obstructing the highway,
blinding the eyes of man and beast.

The “come in’’ of the host nnd hostess was
in answer to a loud, hurried rap at the door,
by which there immediately entered two tray-
elers. One, by his military dress, seemed a
soldier, and the other appeared to be his servant.
This was the case. A German General was on
his way to his home. He had been delayed
several hours by the storm, and now found him-
self obliged to stop for the night at this lonely

> ‘and comfortless little inn.

m the officer threw aside his plumed hat
itary cloak of rich fur, and strode up to
fire, the gruff host was greatly impressed

with his importance, and willingly went out to
help the postillion in the care of the horses.
As for the old hostess, she bustled about with
wonderful activity to prepare supper for the
great man.

“Ho, Carl!’ she cried, ‘‘thou water-imp,
run to the wood for another bundle of fagots!’’

At these strange, sharp words, a wild looking
boy started up from a dusky corner of the room,
where he had been lying with his head pillowed
on a great tawny Swiss dog, and darted out of
the door. He was coarsely dressed and bare-
footed; yet there was something uncommon
about him—something familiar in his look,
which struck the traveler strangely.

“Ts that your child?’’ he asked.

“No, indeed,’”’ said the old dame; “I ama
poor woman, and have seen trouble in my time,
but I am not the mother of water-imps.”’

“Why do you call the boy a water-imp?”’

“T call him so, your excellency,’’ said the
woman, sinking her shrill voice into an awe-
struck tone, ‘because he came from the water,
and belongs to the water. He floated down
the Rhine in the great flood, four years ago
come spring, a mere baby, that could barely
tell his name, perched on the roof of a little
chalet, in the night, amid thunder, lightning,
and rain! Now it is plain that no human child
could have lived through that. My good man
spied him in the morning early, and took him
off in his boat. I took him in pity; but I have
always been afraid of him, and every flood-time
I think the Rhine is coming for his own again.”’

The traveler seemed deeply interested, and
well he might be; for in that very flood of
which the superstitious old dame spoke, his
only child, an infant boy, had been lost, with
his nurse, whose cottage on the river bank had
been swept away by night. ?

‘‘Was the child alone on the roof of the
chalet?”’ he asked in an agitated tone.

“Yes,” said the hostess, ‘‘all but an old dog,
who seemed to belong to him.”

“That dog must have dragged him on to the
roof and saved him!’’ exclaimed the General;
‘tis he yet alive?’’

‘Yes, just alive. He must be very old, for
he is almost stone blind and deaf. My good
man would have put him out of the way long
ago, but for Carl—

“Show me the dog,’’ said the officer, with
authority.

‘Here he lies, your excellency,’’ said the
dame.

The General hent over the dog, touched him
gently, and shouted in his ear his old name of
‘‘Leon.’’ The dog had not forgotten it; he
knew that voice. With a plaintive, joyful cry,
he sprang up to the breast of his old master,
nestled about blindly for his hands, and licked
them unreproved; then sunk down as though
faint with joy to his master’s feet. The brave
soldier was overcome with emotion; tears fell
fast from his eyes. ‘‘Faithful creature,’’ he
exclaimed, ‘‘you have saved my child, and
given him back to me.’’

Just at this moment the door opened, and
little Carl appeared, toiling up the steps with
his arms full of fagots; his cheerful face smiling
brave defiance to the winter winds, and night
and snow.

“Come hither, Carl,’’ said the soldier.
boy flung down his fagots and drew near.

‘Dost thou know who I am?”’

“Ah, no,—the good Christmas King, per-
haps,” said the little Jad, looking full of inno-
cent wonderment.

“Alas, poor child, how shouldst thou remem-
ber me?”’ exclaimed the General, sadly. Then
clasping him to his arms, he said, ‘‘But I re-
member thee; thou art my boy, my dear, long-
lost boy! Look in my face; embrace me; I
am thy father!’’

“No, surely,’”’ said the child, sorely bewil-
dered, ‘‘that can not be, for they tell me the
Rhine is my father.’”’

The soldier smiled through his tears, and
soon was able to convince his little son that he
had a better father than the old river that had
carried him away from his tender parents. He
told him of a loving mother who yet sorrowed
for him, and of a blue-eyed sister, who would
rejoice when he came. Carl listened, and
wondered, and laughed, and when he compre-
hended it all, slid from his father’s arms and
ran to embrace old Leon.

The next morning early the General, after
having generously rewarded the innkeeper and
his wife for having given a home, though a
poor one, to his little son, departed for home.
In his arms he carried Carl, carefully wrapped
in his warm fur cloak, and if sometimes the
little bare feet of the child were thrust out
from their covering, it was only to bury them
in the shaggy coat of old Leon, who lay snugly
curled up in the bottom of the carriage.

I will not attempt to tell you of the deep joy
of Carl’s mother, nor the wild delight of his
little sister, for I think such things are quite
beyond any one’s telling; but altogether it was
to all a Christmas time to thank God for, and
they did thank him.—S. Jf L.

The

Christmas Customs in Scandinavia.

In Sweden and Norway Christmas is a day
of joy for everybody. In the country every
house stands open to the passing stranger and
he is at liberty to sit down to the table that has
been expressly filled for him. In many parts
of Norway even the tavern keepers charge
nothing for food and lodging. ‘The custom of
making each other presents on Holy-eve is con-
scientiously maintained among all classes, and
as everybody must have a present, the ladies
have their hands full for weeks and months be-
forehand in order to be prepared. Even the
dumb beasts get their share of the good things.
The horses get more oats than usual, the horned
cattle a better quality of hay, the dog a gener-
ous soup, and even the birds have placed for
them in front of every barn a pole or fir-tree
on which has been fastened a sheaf of oats.