The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1891, Page 26

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26

The Lutheran Pioneer.

Wrestling With God.

The Bible story which our picture illustrates
may be read in the 32d chapter of Genesis.
Jacob, after having lived many years with his
uncle Laban, resolved to return to the house
of his father. On his way home he learned that
his brother Esau was coming to meet him with
four hundred men. At this Jacob was greatly
afraid and distressed and fervently prayed to
God to deliver him from the hands of his brother.

The following night, when Jacob was quite

alone, something very strange occurred to him;
for he wrestled with a man and the man could
not overcome him, although the combat lasted
till day-break; yet one of Jacob’s hips was put
out of joint as the man wrestled with him. And
when morning dawned the
man said to him, ‘‘Let me
go, for the day breaketh.”’
And Jacob said, ‘‘I will not
let thee go except thou bless
me.” And the man did
bless him and also did change
his name, saying, ‘‘ Thy
name shall be called no
more Jacob, but Israel: for
as a prince hast thou power
with God and with men,
and hast prevailed.’’ Jacob
then observed that he with
whom he had wrestled was
more than a man; there-
fore he exclaimed, ‘‘I have
seen God face to face, and my
lifeis preserved.” Strength-
ened in his trust in God,
he went to meet his brother
Esau.

When we are in distress
we are to wrestle with God
in prayer. Relying upon
His promises, we may be
confident that He will be
overcome by our faithful
and constant prayer. When
our soul in prayer holds on to God and cries
out, ‘*I will not let thee go except thou bless
me,” God will fulfill our prayer and give us
His blesaing. And like Jacob we shall expe-
rience the sweet truth that “what the Lord
blesses, shall be blessed forever.’’

——_s- +eor oe

“1 Don’t Care.”

“I don't care!’’ How often we hear young
people say this! My young friend, you ought
to care—aye, you will care, perhaps, when it is
too late. ‘‘Don’t care’’ has ruined thousands.
It has filled jails and almshouses, and mur-
derers’ graves; it has wrung the hearts of par-
ents, and has brought deep blushes to a sister's
cheek; it has broken down many a young man
who has started out in life with the brightest
prospects of success, but who has too often said
«T don’t care.”’ ’ : :

‘| these words.

Be careful how you allow yourself to utter
Some years ago there was a
bright talented boy coming late out of school.
He had been kept in by his teacher for bad
conduct. Ashe stepped into the street, a friend
of his—a noble man, and one who always de-
lighted in helping boys—said to him: ‘‘I am
very sorry to see you coming out of school so
late.’’ The boy replied in a careless way: ‘‘I
don’t care.’”

Now, remember, that I was intimately ac-
quainted with this boy. I knew his father and
mother. They were excellent people. The boy
was talented—no one in school moreso. He

could stand at the head of his classes whenever
he tried to; but he didn’t care.
This spirit of ‘‘I don’t care”’ grew upon him,

Wrestling With God.

and, at Jast, his father took him out of school
and put him intga store. But he failed there,
for he didn’t care whether he pleased his em-
ployers or not. After remaining in the store
a short time, he was dismissed. He didn’t care,
but father, and mother, and sister cared, for
they shed many tears.

Some time after this I saw him driving a
dirt cart, in trowsers, and shirt, and barefoot;
but he didn’t care.

For several years I did not hear anything
from him. One day I learned that he had
shipped as a common sailor, for a foreign
port; but on shipboard, as everywhere’ else,
he didn’t care, and when the vessel reached
her harbor, the captain kicked him off the
ship. After wandering about a few months
on a foreign shore, he died of a fever, and
was buried thousands of miles from home.

W. #H.

What has it Cost You?

The Missionary Herald tells of a Scotch
woman whose practice it was to give a penny
for missions, to whom a visitor gave a sixpence
to procure some meat, on learning that she had
not lately enjoyed that Juxury. She thought
to herself, I have long done very well on my
porridge; so I will give the sixpence also to
God. This fact came to the knowledge of a
missionary secretary, who narrated it-at a mis-
sionary breakfast. The host and his guests were
profoundly impressed by it, the host himself
saying that he had never denied himeelf a chop
for the cause of God. He therefore instantly
subscribed twenty-five hundred dollars addi-
tional, and others of the party followed his ex-
ample, till the sum of eleven
thousand dollars were raised
before they separated. This
good woman’s sixpence was
larger in the sight of God
than the thousands contrib-
uted by these rich people;
for she gave of her poverty
and they out of their abun-
dance. This is a good illus-
tration of the power of
example. There is nothing
so fruitful as self-sacrifice.

s+ -<—>e- oo

A Widow's Gift.

A missionary in Persia
tells of a poor widow with
two little children to sup-
port, and a mother and an
invalid sister who needed
all the help that she could
give them. And still she
desired to help those who
were in suffering and dis-
tress.

‘“‘One day,’’ says the mis-
sionary, ‘‘she cut off the
greater part of her beauti-
ful hair and sold it, and brougt me the money.
She knelt down at my feet, and, with eyes full
of tears, said, ‘Take this money for the poor
people; I want to give it to God. It is the price
of my hair. I had nothing else to give.’”

It was not merely the value of the gift, but
the willing mind that prompted it, which made
it a sweet savor of love to the weary mis-
sionary, working among the poor and the dis-
tressed. The poor woman, like the widow of
old, cast in her mite. Her choicest treasure
was bestowed upon the poor.

How many Christian women there are who

waste in personal adornment much that might”

be given torelieve distress, to enlightendarkness,
to comfort those that mourn, and send the light
of the knowledge of the Lord among those who
sit in Jands of darkness, beneath the shadow
of death! Could not such learn a lesson from
this poor Persian widow?—Little Missionary.

‘