The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1913, Page 41

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- cannon.

.

Che Lutheran Pioneer,

A MISSIONARY MONTHLY.

Pus.isuep By THE EvanceLica Lurneran Synopical. ConFERENCE or Nort AMERICA.

REV. F. J. LANKENAU, EDITOR.

Entered at the Post Office at St. Louis, Mo., as second-class matter.

Dear loving Father, Thou knowest
Whatever is best for me;

In all my utter helplessness

I come, O Lord, to Thee.

O help me to be more faithful,
More patient, loving, and true;
And guide me, Thou great Jehovah,
Until my journey is through.

Help me, my gracious Redeemer,
I am so sinful and weak;
Thou knowest what I have need of,
Thou who art lowly and meck.
Give me some work in Thy'vineyard,
However humble it be.
Dear loving Master and Savior,
May I live only for Thee!
Estner PETERSON.

The Spirit’s Sacred Spark.

An army has prepared an attack on a hostile
fortress. The batteries have been placed in position.
The cannon are charged with powder and ball. A
chain of regiments is in line ready for action. The
faces of the soldiers are grim with determination.
All eyes are tensely strained in the direction of the
coveted goal.

But as yet the enemy is unmolested. The for-
tress is as secure and unharmed as though not a
foe were in sight. Its walls are still intact, not a
man has fallen at his post.

The heavy guns of the besieging army are still
cold and silent.
of powder and ball rests in the breech.of each
The soldiers are waiting, their bodies
tense but idle. }

The whole line of attack, however menacing may
be its appearance, is yet as harmless and futile as
though it were a set of martial toys. -

Inert and motionless the charge

A single word of quick command — instantly
there is life and action. Battery after battery re-
sponds with a thunderous roar. Livid sheets of
vicious flame are belched forth all along the line.
A hundred projectiles are hurled into space, and,
screaming, find their mark.

The walls of the fortress, perforated by the irre-
sistible impact of the ponderous missiles, quaver;
they totter, they fall.

With a shout the besieging army advances. It
masses at the breach. Over the ruins of the fallen
battlements it swarms to victory. The fortress is
taken. The work is done.

But what was it that each soldier tensely alert
waited for? What was it that started the fray,
that made each battery an irresistible engine of
execution, that set the wheels of that vast fighting
machine in motion, that blazed the trail to victory?

I was a spark, the spark that fired the charge
in each cannon, the spark that sent each projectile
on its way of destruction.

Without that spark the fortress remained im-
pregnable. Without that spark the besieging army
was powerless. That spark was the signal that
stirred the waiting forces into action; that spark
vitalized the silent idle regiments; that spark sealed
the doom of the fortress; that spark was the germ
of victory. —

Satan and his hosts have reared in this world a
stupendous fortress of heathenism and unbelief.
Millions of human beings are entrenched behind
its walls of ignorance and superstition. Captives
though they are, they yet willfully and stubbornly
resist any attempt that may be made to set them

free. They are unaware of their captivity, and

they have no desire for liberty.
But there is One who is determined that the