The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1886, Page 35

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‘The Lutheran Pioneer.

35

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The Prisoner of Glatz.

Dr. W. F. Besser, late pastor of Waldenburg,
in Upper Silesia, in his Practical Commentaries,
relates the following incident, which is un-
doubtedly authentic, as it occurred not far
from the place where he resided.

In a cleft of a mountain range in Upper
Silesia, through which the wild and raging
Neisse forces its passage down to the Oder,
stands the impregnable Prussian fortress of
Glatz, a natural fastness, almost unequalled in
the world, begirt with mountain-peaks like
walls, and fortified yet more by human skill.
The valley itself is shut out from the rest of
the world; and one who
is enclosed by the mas-
sive walls and gratings
of the castle is an exile
from the world, as if
buried alive. Woe to
the man imprisoned in
Glatz! Everything calls
out to him, ‘‘No hope re-
mains for thee! no hope!”

Here in the second
decade of this century,
lay the Count of M ;
hitherto petted and fol-
lowed; now hopelessly
immured behind bolts
and bars. By treason
against the realm, and
especially by personal
violence offered to Fred-
eric William II, of Prus-
sia, he had drawn down
the rage of that monarch
on his head, and was con-
demned to solitary im-
prisonment for life. For
a whole year he lay in
his frightful, lonely cell,
without one star of hope
in either his outer or in-
ner sky; for he was asceptic. They had left
him only one book—a Bible; and this for a
long time he would not read; or if forced to
take it up to kill time and relieve his consuming
weariness, it was only read with anger, and
gnashing of teeth against the God it reveals.

But sore affliction, that dreadful and yet
blessed agent of God, which has brought the
Good Shepherd many a wandering sheep, was
effectual with the Count M The more
he read his Bible, the more he felt the pressure
of the gentle hand of God, on his forlorn, hope-
less heart.

One rough and stormy November night,
when the mountain gales howled around the
fortress, the rain fell in torrents, and the swollen
and foaming Neisse rushed roaring down the
valley, the count lay sleepless on his cot. The
tempest in his breast was as fearful as that
without. His whole past life rose before him;

he was convinced of his manifold shortcomings
and sins; he felt that the source of all his mis-

.

ery lay in his forsaking God. For the first time
in his life his heart was soft, and his eyes wet
| With tears of genuine repentance. He rises
from his cot, opens his Bible, and his eyes fall
jon Psalm 50, 15, ‘Call upon Me in the day of
| trouble; I will deliver thee; and thou shalt glorify
Me.’’ This Word of God reaches the depths
of his soul; he falls on his knees for the first
time since he was a child, and cries to God for
mercy; and that gracious and compassionate

God, who turns not away from the first move-

ment of faith towards him, heard the cry of
this sufferer in the storm-beaten dungeon of

Glatz, and gave him not only spiritual but

temporal deliverance. i

He answers even before we rightly call upon
Him. Now, as in ages past, the Lord looks
down from heaven to behold the sighing of the
prisoner, and to loose his bonds; and still, as
of old, the king’s heart is in the hand of the
Lord, and He turneth it, as the conduits of
water are turned. Let us make Him our ref-
uge, and confide in His power with an abiding
and unshaken trust.

———>- <> e--

Singing the Gospel.

At a meeting in City Road Chapel, London,
to consider the wants of the neglected poor of
thegreatcity, John Boyn-
ton, a minister, related
how a blaspheming scof-
fer took his stand by the
statue of Lord Bute in
Cardiff, and began an in-

fidel harangue to a crowd
of workingmen who gath-

ered about him. When

NATIVES OF WESTERN AFRICA.

he finished, a railway
porter stepped up in
front and said:
“‘Aren’t you going to
sing before yougoaway?”
“Oh, no,’’ was the
reply, ‘‘we don’t sing.’’
‘Well, Ido,”’ said the
porter, and he struck up
at once a verse of Cow-
per’s familiar hymn:
“The dying thief rejoiced
to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though
vile as he, :
Wash all my sins away.’

On the next night he
met the same speaker
and the assembly at the
same place, with a power-

The same night, in his castle at Berlin, King | ful accordeon under hisarm. By his spiritual
Frederic William III. lay sleepless in bed.|singing, with its musical accompaniment, he
Severe bodily pains tormented him, and in his|entirely drew away the audience from the in-
utter exhaustion he begged of God to grant] fidel speaker, and sang to them the Gospel of
him a single hour of refreshing sleep. The} Jesus Christ, to their delight and profit.

favor was granted; and when he woke again
he said to his wife, the gracious Louise, ‘‘God
has looked upon me very graciously, and I may
well be thankful to Him. Who in my kingdom
has wronged me most? I will forgive him.”

“The Count of M ,’ replied Louise, ‘‘who
is imprisoned at Glatz.’’

“You are right,’ said the sick king;
him be pardoned.’’

Day had not dawned over Berlin ere a cou-
rier was despatched to Silesia, bearing to the
prisoner in Glatz pardon and release. The

——— s+ oo oe

A Boy's Confidence.

A little boy came to his father looking very
much in earnest and asked: ‘‘Father, is Satan

«Jet | bigger than I am?”

‘Yes, my boy,’’ said his father.

“Ts he bigger than you, father?’”

“Yes, my boy, he is bigger than your father.’’
The boy looked surprised, but thought again

prayer of penitential faith had been heard, and|and then asked: “Is he bigger than Jesus?”

deliverance was granted by the providence of
God.
And the God of our fathers still lives; he

‘“No, my boy,” answered the father, ‘Jesus
is bigger than he is.””
The little fellow, as he turned away, said

hears the cry of His children, and many times| with a smile: “Then I am not afraid of him.”