The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1899, Page 3

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The Lutheran Pioneer.

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Jesus.

“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,
In a believer’s car;
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.

“It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
‘Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary rest.’’

~ <> -e< ee -

This Year Also.

It was New Year’s day. ‘The people were
on their way home from church. The minis-
ter had preached on the parable of the barren
fig tree which was to be cut down, but which
was spared on account of the gardener’s
prayer: ‘‘Lord, let it alone this year also,
till I shall dig about it and dung it; and if it
bear fruit, well; and if not, then after that
thou shalt cut it down.’’

Two had sat together listening attentively
to the sermon, and now they were walking to-
gether down the road: an old and a young
man. The old man was the smith of the vil-
, lage, the young man had but lately arrived
and had opened a shoe store opposite the
smithy.

As they walked along, the old man sighed
deeply and wiped tears from his eyes. The
young shoemaker looked at his neighbor with
great surprise, saying, ‘‘Has the sermon af-
fected you so deeply?’’? The old man nodded
and on parting invited his young neighbor to
visit him some evening, when he would tell
him all. .

So it happened that one evening the young
shoemaker entered the room where his aged
neighbor lived all by himself. He found him
sitting at a table with an open Bible before him.

The old man soon began the following story :
“On the first day of January of the past year
I lay there in bed very sick. My sins rose
before my mind like high mountains. I had
lived to be seventy years old, and still I was
the slave of sin; I was a drunkard. My con-
science spoke to me as in a voice of thunder:
‘Now you must die, and then comes the judg-
ment.’ The parable of the barren fig tree
came to my mind on that New Year’s day.
I heard the terrible voice: ‘Cut him down!
Seventy years, and no fruit! Seventy years,
and stilla drunkard! Cut him down!’ I felt
as if all strength had left me. I could only
sigh from the bottom of my heart: ‘Have
mercy! Oh, have mercy!’ I lay quiet for
a while, thinking further on that parable.
Theard the voice of the pleading gardener:
‘This year also! This year also.’ These
words filled my heart with hope. ‘There was
mercy for me. ‘The barren fig tree was to be
spared this year also. Jesus was pleading for
my soul. I soon recovered from my sickness
and since that New Year’s day I am changed.
T have come to my Saviour, and in Him I have
found forgiveness of sins and strength to over-

come sin. Now another New Year has come,
and I am still living; but I am ready, yes, I
am ready to die. May my end come to-day
or to-morrow, I know that I shall fall asleep
in Jesus.’’

The young man listened attentively to his
neighbor’s story, and when he bade him good
night, the old man held his hand and said,
‘Old people must die, young people may die!
Therefore all should heed the voice of the
pleading Jesus: ‘This year also!’’’

———»— ome

Too Late!

Many years ago a rich merchant of New
York went South and married a wealthy and
cultured young lady. The young couple took
up their dwelling in New York and soon be-
came prominent in ‘‘high society.’’ The wife
had been brought up in a Christian family and
had been known for her piety and her kind-
ness towards the poor and the sick. However,
since her husband, whom she considered very
smart, did not care for religion, she soon
adopted his views of life. Her Bible and her
hymn book were laid aside, and the services of
God’s house were neglected. The pleasures
of this world took possession of her heart.
Her, time was given up to society, to the the-
atre, and to dancing. How to dress and
adorn herself according to the latest fashion
was with her the most important question.

About twelve years ago she traveled to
some distant friend. During the journey a
terrible wreck occurred, in which she was
seriously injured. She was taken to the next
station and a doctor was called from the near-
est village.

Of his meeting with the lady the doctor
says: It was one of the most painful experi-
ences I ever had. I had to tell her that she
had but an hour to live. She would not be-
lieve that her case was so serious.

“JT must go home,”’ she said, ‘‘I must go to
New York.”’

‘Mrs. L., that is impossible. Moving you
now would only shorten your life.’’

She lay on the floor; the brakemen had
rolled up their cloaks to furnish her a pillow.

“7 have but one hour to live? Is that what
you said, doctor?’’

“Tt is my painful duty to tell you so.”

She sighed deeply: ‘‘Thus I must end!
What is left to me of the world? It is not
much, doctor,’’ she said with a bitter smile.

The men left the room, and I closed the
door lest she might be disturbed.

For a while she lay silent; then she said
with great excitement: ‘How much good
could I haye done! All the moncy, all the
time I had! All was wasted! Now it is too
late! Only one hour to live!”’

My words of comfort were in vain. She
grew more excited.

“Doctor,’’ she said, ‘‘I wanted to shine in
the world, I wanted to outshine all others,

Great God, fashion, fashion!
only one hour—one hour!

But she had no hour.
been too great. Soon after those last words
she passed away. Nothing ever made such
an impression on me as that cry of despair:
‘It is too late!”’

“The night cometh when no man can work.’’

Now I have
It is too late!’’
Her excitement had

— >see oe

Nearer Home.

An old man and a school-boy were sitting
together in arailroad car. The boy had spent
his vacations at his grandmother’s and was now
on his way home. The old man, who was a
great friend of children, delighted to converse
with the modest little fellow.

After a while the boy looked out of the
window and said, ‘‘Now I am not far from
my native town and from my mother.’”? His
eyes beamed with joy as he related how his
mother was expecting him, and how glad she
would be when he came home.

‘Should I not be like this child?’’ thought
the old man. ‘‘Should I not, even under the
burdens of old age, rejoice, since I am com-
ing nearer home every day? Should not my
heart be filled with gladness on thinking how
it will be when I come home over yonder
where Jesus is waiting for me? Have not I
also a window through which I may see my
home in the distance? Have I not God’s
Word in which my home is described and
pointed out to me with all its bliss and joys?
O the beauties of the mansion which Christ
has prepared for me in my Father’s house!’

—— s+ o>

Compassion of Jesus.

Luther said, ‘“‘I would run into the arms of
Christ if He stood with a drawn sword in His
hands.’’ John Butterworth, reading this, re-
solved to do likewise, and found, as every
venturing sinner does, no sword in the hands
of Christ, but open arms and a hearty wel-
come. Jesus’ proclamation, forever sound-
ing forth to every burdened heart, is, ‘‘Come
unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy-
laden, and I will give you rest.’” He demon-
strated His marvelous compassion by dying
for us; He will not now repulse the approach-
ing sinner.

+ o>

Christ is All.

We have all things in Christ, and Christ is
all things in us: if we are sick, He is a physi-
cian; if we fear death, He is life; if we are
in darkness, He is light; if we are in want,
He is rich: if we are hungry, He is food; if
we are thirsty, He is drink; if we are miser-
able, He is mercy; if we are longing for
heaven, He is the way.—St. Ambrose.