The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1892, Page 31

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‘The TLutheran Pioneer.

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Robert Moffat.

Robert Maffat was‘a famous missionary in
Africa. Speaking of his conversion and the
devotion of his life to missionary work, he
himself says:

“T will tell you how it was: When I was
leaving home for Warrington, where I was
going to work as a gardener, my mother asked
me to give her a promise. - I wanted to know
what I was to promise, but she would not tell
me and still urged that I should promise.
Iwas quite loth to give my word to do a thing
which I did not know about, but I loved and
trusted my mother, and so at length gave the
promise she wished.

‘¢¢Well,’? she said, ‘I want you to read a
portion of the New Testament every
day, and wherever you may be.’

‘I kept my promise to my mother,
and it was some time after that, that
I was brought to the knowledge of
Christ.’’

‘‘And did you then devote yourself
to the missionary work?’’? some one
asked.

‘*No,’’ he replied; ‘‘that was later;
I had gone in from the place where I
was working to the town of Warring-
ton on a Saturday night to buy a book,
when I saw a placard about a mission-
ary meeting. It was an old placard,
and the meeting was past, but it fixed
my thoughts on the subject; and so I
went to the minister whose name was
on the placard, and after 1 had knocked
at his door I would gladly have run
away, but it was too late. So Isaw
him and talked with him, and after-
ward he introduced me to the London
Missionary Society, by which, two years
later, in 1822, I was sent out to Af-
Tica.’’

When Moffat had come to Africa, an
African chief came with twelve spear-
men to command him to leave the
country on pain of death, but Moffat calmly
replied, ‘‘You may shed my blood, you may
burn my dwelling, but my decision is made—
I do not leave your country.’’ With a calm
courage, which nothing could daunt, the mis-
sionary for many years labored faithfully
among his ‘‘beloved Africans.’’ On August 9,
1883, the ‘‘good and faithful servant’’ entered
into the joy of his Lord.

What wonderful changes have taken place
in Africa since Moffat entered that country
in the year 1822! Changes that have been
brought about also by the work of that faith-
ful missionary! Over the harvests that have
been gathered from the deserts of Africa that
godly mother also rejoiced, who trained her
boy in the fear of the Lord and made him
promise to read the New Testament every
day.

—_——-P oe oe -

Trur charity has no memory.

mame.

The “Fountain” and the ‘‘Oil.’”’

“In one of my early journeys,’’ says Robert
Moffat, ‘‘we came to a heathen village on the
banks of the Orange river. We had traveled
far, and were hungry, thirsty and tired. For
fear of lions we thought it best to go into the
village and tarry for the night, rather than con-
tinue on our journey; but the people seeing
us, roughly bade us keep at a distance. We
asked for water, but they would give us none.
I offered the three or four buttons still left
upon my jacket for a drink of milk; this also
was refused, and we had the prospect of an-
other hungry night, at a distance from the
water, though within sight of the river.

lot looked hard, especially when, in 3 On

ROBERT MOFFAT.

to these rebuffs, the manners of the villagers
aroused our suspicions.

‘*When the twilight came on, a woman drew
near from the height beyond which the village
lay. She carried on her head a bundle of
wood, and had a vessel of milk in her hand.
Without speaking she handed us the milk, laid
down the wood, and went away. Soon she
came back with a cooking vessel on her head,

and a leg of mutton in one hand and water in,

the other. She then kindled a fire and put on
the meat. We asked her again and again who
she was. She said not a word, until we asked
her why she showed this unlooked for kind-
ness towards strangers. A tear stole down
her black cheek as she answered, ‘I love Him,
whose servant you are, and surely it is my
duty to give you a cup of cold water in His
My heart is full, therefore I can not
speak the joy I feel to see you in this out-of-
the-world place.’ ’”

On learning a little of her history, and find-

ing that she was a Christian, a solitary light
burning in a dark place, I asked her how she
kept up the life of God in her soul without
christian society.
an old Dutch New Testament, which she re-
ceived from a missonary while at his school

She drew from her bosom

many years since, before her relatives took her
away to this distant region.

‘**This,’ she said, ‘is the fountain whence I
drink; this is the oil which makes my lamp
burn.’ I looked on the precious volume, and
you may conceive how we felt when we met
with this disciple, and mingled together our
sympathies at the throne of our Heavenly

Our | Father.”’

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That Mighty Name.

A missionary in India one day saw
on the street one of the strangest look-
ing heathen his eyes had ever lighted
upon. On inquiry, he found that he
belonged to one of the inland tribes
living in the mountain districts. Upon
further investigation he found that the
Gospel had never been preached to
them, and that it was very hazardous
to venture among them because of their
murderous propensities.

_ He was stirred with earnest desire
to break unto them the bread of life.
He went to his lodging-place, fell on
his knees, and pleaded for divine di-
rection. Arising from his knees, he
packed his valise, took his violin, with
which he was accustomed to sing, and
his pilgrim-staff, and started in the
direction of the Macedonian cry. As
he bade his fellow-missionaries fare-
well, they said, ‘‘We shall never see
you again. It is madness for you to
go.” But he said, ‘‘I must preach
Jesus to them.’’ For two days he tray-
eled, scarcely meeting a human being,
till at last he found himself in the

mountains and surrounded by a crowd of say-

ages. Every spear was suddenly pointed at his
heart. He expected that every moment would
be his last. Not having any other resource, he
tried the power of singing the name of Jesus
to them. Drawing forth his violin, he began
with closed eyes to sing and play,—
“All hail the power of Jesus’ name,
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown Him Lord of all.”
While singing the last stanza—
“tet every kindred, every tribe
On this terrestrial ball,
To Him all majesty ascribe,
And crown Him Lord of all,—
he opened his eyes and saw that the spears
had dropped from their hands, and big tears
were falling from their eyes. They afterward
invited him to their homes. He spent two
years and a half among them. His labors were
so richly blest that, when he was compelled
to leave them by reason of ill health, they fol-
lowed him thirty miles. ‘‘O missionary, come
back to us again! — There are tribes beyond
‘us,’’ they said.—Mfission Studies.” :