The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1910, Page 38

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The Lutheran Pioneer.

38

A Missionary’s Farewell.

Yes, my native land, I love thee;
All thy scenes, I-love them well;
Friends, connections, happy country,
Can I bid you all farewell?

Can I leave you

Far in heathen lands to dwell?

Home! thy joys are passing lovely;
Joys no stranger heart can tell!
Happy home! indeed I love thee!
Can I—can I say — farewell?

Can I leave thee

Far in heathen lands to dwell?

Yes! I hasten from you gladly,
From the scenes I love so well! :
God has called, and He is with me;
Lovely native land, farewell!
Pleased I leave thee

Far in heathen lands to dwell.

In the deserts let me labor,

On the mountains let me tell
How He died, the blessed Savior,
To. redeem a world from hell!
God be with thee,

Native land! — Farewell, farewell!

- Sleeping in the Storm.

A pastor relates this story from real life:

A wild storm was raging around a prairie home
one night. The windows were blown in, and no
lights could be kept burning. It was only with
difficulty that the doors could be braced against
the blast. The father was absent from home, and
the mother, grandmother, and three children sat
in the darkness in-a room on the sheltered side of
the house, fearing that at any moment the house
might be swept from its foundation by the force of
the wind.

Suddenly eleven-year-old Walter was missed.
He had been holding a whispered conversation with
his grandmother only a few minutes before. Fran-
tic with fear, the mother called him at the top of
her voice, and receiving no reply, started to grope
her way through the darkness and confusion of the
house to find, if possible, the missing boy.

She found him in his room—sound asleep!
And when she asked him how he could go to sleep
when they were all in danger of death, he sleepily
replied :

‘Why, mama, grandma told me that God would
take care of us, and I thought I might as well go
to bed again.”

Items from Immanuel College.

With the beginning of spring our students of
Immanuel College have taken up their work on
the college campus again under the direction of
Prof. N. J. Bakke. The lawns must be mowed,
the flowers planted, both sprinkled and well wa-
tered, and the paths and driveways weeded and
leveled. Four days of the week are devoted to
outdoor work.

After-the students have finished their daily
share of outdoor work,—usually they are em-
ployed from 2.30 until 4 o’clock, — they play base-
ball; for what student would not like to have
some time at least for this favorite sport? All the
more do our students want to play, because for
the first time in the history of the College the team
“is in possession of regular baseball suits. Our
colored boys make quite an attractive picture in
their light gray uniforms.

On the evening of April 6, the students and
friends of the institution had the pleasure of
listening to the recital of Mr. Richard B. Harrison,
a man of national reputation as a dramatic reader.
Besides the court scene from Shakespeare’s “Mer-
chant of Venice” he chiefly recited a number of
selections from Paul Lawrence Dunbar, the col-
ored poet. Mr. Harrison’s imitation of different
dialects, his gestures and grimaces, kept the audi-
ence in a continual laughter. At the beginning,
in the middle, and at the end of the program the
undersigned played a few solos on the pipe organ.
Everyone of the large crowd that attended greatly
enjoyed Mr. Harrison’s recital. M. L.

Items from New Orleans.

On Palm Sunday a reunion was held in two of
our congregations, Mount Zion and-St. Paul.
Mount Zion was organized in 1879 with a class
of 12. Last year 9 were added to the church. In
the 30 years, from 1879 to. 1909, 304 were con-
firmed. During this period 120 received a Chris-
tian burial. 102 are still on the enrollment.

In St. Paul 312 were confirmed since 1882.
Of these 169 are still with us. 70 died.

. Contemplating these numbers, we are at once
reminded of the sad truth: “The devil goeth about
like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.”
Many have strayed away. A small number has re-
mained true. But “fear not, little flock,” says the