The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1899, Page 11

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The Lutheran Pioneer.

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Substitution.

* That is a long word. Do you know what it
means? One day the children at school were
told that Christ’s work was a work of substi-
tution. One of the boys inquired what sub-
stitution meant. The teacher requested some
one in the class to answer the question; but
the answer could not be given. He then told
the children the following story:

In a little town in Germany there lived a
blacksmith, a large, powerful man. In the
village there was a small inn, where men used
to gather when anything of interest occurred.
It had but one room, with a small window
high up on the wall and but one door opening
to the street. ‘The blacksmith was there one
day with his friends talking about the village
affairs. It was a warm day, and the door was
wide open, when suddenly, right there in the
doorway, stood a dog of monstrous size, his
long, red tongue hanging from his mouth,
-which was covered with foam, his blood-shot
eyes glaring at the men, who seemed turned
into stone. There was no way of escape; the
window was too small and high, and no one
could pass the dog, who was raving mad, and
would spring upon the first that moved. A
few seconds, which seemed hours, passed, and
then the smith said, ‘‘My friends, I am the
strongest man here. I think I can hold the
dog while you escape. While I hold him, go
quickly out and close the door; bring a gun
and shoot the dog through the window. My
dear old mother! But Jesus will take care
of her.’’? With that he turned to the dog, just
springing at him, caught him by the throat
in his powerful grasp, while the others went
silently out and quickly as they could brought
their best marksman, who shot the dog, but
not till the poor blacksmith’s strength was
quite gone. He stood before them covered
with blood. The mad animal had wrenched
his head this way and that, and torn with his
teeth the hands and arms of the heroic man,
who through all the terrible pain never let go
his hold. ,

The people crowded anxiously around him;
but he said to them, ‘‘Be quiet, my friends.
I know I shall become mad. You cannot help
me; but I will take care that no harm comes
to any one through me. Go home and pray
that God will not let me suffer long.’’

Then he went to his shop, the people fol-
lowing, silent and weeping. He took his
strongest chain, fastened one end around his
. body and the other to his anvil. ‘‘Now,’’ he
said, ‘‘now it is done; bring me food while I
can eaf, and keep away when my fits of mad-
hess come on. Pray for me—lI leave the rest
with God.’’

A few days of agony passed, and then he
died. The whole countryside mourned for
him. People from all the towns around came
to his funeral. They built a monument over
his grave and inscribed upon it: ‘tHe died
forus.”” And every year, at the anniversary

of his death, the village people walk in pro-
cession to his tomb and cover it with flowers.

‘‘Now, children,’’ said the teacher, ‘we
call this substitution. This man died for his
friends. He took their place and thus be-
came a substitute for them.’’

And then the teacher told the children of
One who died for His enemies. ‘While we
were yet sinners, Christ died for us.’? He
took our place, and suffered and died in our
stead. He is the sinners’ substitute, and His
work is a work of substitution.

——s +o oo

A Thankful Heart.

An aged pastor relates the following:

An incident occurred in my first pastorate
which I shall never forget. In the congrega-
tion was a widow, old and poor, who lived in
an old log house at the edge of a dense woods,
with an insane son. I remember my first visit
to her as though it had been but yesterday.
As I walked toward her humble abode, I tried
to recall all the comforting passages of Scrip-
ture that might suit her sad lot. It was with
a sad and heavy heart that I stood upon the
door-step. And after I had knocked upon
the door, I expected it to be opened by a sad-
faced woman who carried her sorrows upon
her face. I expected to be greeted by a tale
of woe. I even expected her to question the
goodness of her God.

But I did not know her then. ‘he door
opened and a kind, lovely old face looked into
mine and a cheerful voice bade me enter.

We entered into a conversation, and what
a conversation it was! She told me how God
had blessed her; how He in His goodness had
given her everything needful for her life and
comfort. As she spoke, I looked around her
poor old home, destitute of almost everything
we think necessary to make a home. Did I
hear aright? Yes, for there she sat with a
face expressing the gratitude of her heart.

I must see her garden. As we walk around
the very small plot of ground, she said she be-
lieved that God had blessed her little garden
more than all the rest. I must break bread
with her. As we sat around the poorly-fur-
nished table and partook of that frugal meal,
she said, ‘‘How good God has always been to
me; I have always had enough to eat, a roof
to cover me and clothing to keep me warm.”’

I looked upon her almost in reverence. I
thought how many people upon whom God
had showered His blessings never return to
thank Him; how many people whose lives
have fallen in pleasant places are continu-
ally complaining against Him; but here this
woman to whom God, we would say, had
given very little indeed, was pouring out her
heart in thanksgiving and praise to Him for
all that He had done to her, a poor and un-
worthy creature.

She seemed to me to stand there with a
crust of bread in one hand and a cup of water
in the other and saying, all this and Jesus, too.

I can never forget that woman, I never want
to forget her. Her memory has been a bene-
diction to me and it may be that the story
may help and cheer others.

——~- Po oe

The Lord’s Corn.

A mission station in the Indian Territory
was at one time my house, says a missionary’s
wife. Tobaccowell, one of our neighbors, was
a member of the little mission church, and like
many a white professing Christian, was zeal-
ous for the mission cause only by spasms.
One Sunday he listened to a sermon on Chris-
tian Giving. At the close of the service he
said to the missionary: ‘‘Me plant big corn-
field next week. Me make it ten pieces; plant
all, then one piece be the Lord’s corn.”’

He did so. The part of the field to be de-
voted to the Lord was ploughed and planted
with great care. But when the time for hoe-
ing had arrived, our neighbor hoed his own
corn, but did not find it convenient to hoe the
Lord’s. As the season advanced, the Lord’s
corn, uncultivated and dwarfed, and Tobacco-
well’s well hoed, tall and thrifty, produced a
sad and striking contrast. :

The sight of that corn field has been a life-
long lesson to me; and whenever I find myself
more devoted to my own personal interests
than to the glory of God, I say to myself,
“Tam neglecting the Lord’s corn.’’

> + 2 <a +

Giving his Son to the Lord.

When the great missionary among the hea-
then, Christian Schwartz, had finished his
studies at Halle, he resolved to consecrate his
life to the service of God. On learning that
Professor Francke wished to obtain new mis-
sionaries for India, he at once longed to be
one of them, and to go to work in that far
off, benighted country. He set out for his
native village to obtain the consent of his
father. His father had shortly before this
time buried a son and given his oldest daugh-
ter in marriage. It must have been a hard
question for his father to decide when young
Schwartz asked if he might go to India and
spend his life there as a missionary. But that
father was a God-fearing man. He repaired
to his chamber to pray over the matter. At
length he came down, gave the son his bless-
ing, and bade him depart in God’s name. He
charged him to forget his native country and
his father’s house, and to go and win souls for
Christ.

God does not, perhaps, ask so much of you
and me, but God does want us to deny our-
selves, and to give of our labor and our money
to the upbuilding of His kingdom.

Little Missionary.
<r  e
“(Ask nof how, but trust Him still, ~
Ask not when, but wait His will,

Simply on His Word rely,
God shall all your need supply.’’