The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1922, Page 66

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66

The Lutheran Pioneer.

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against the sky in an attitude of fear and doubt,
his eyes searching the deep shadows in fearful ap-
prehension. Then, growing bolder, he draws .the
tattered mantle closer about his shining shoulders
and steps out into the full moonlight. A groan
escapes his parted lips as he stands there looking
out across the hills shimmering in the light of the
full moon. Then with face uplifted, one trembling
hand grasping his frayed mantle and the other’ ex-
tended heavenward, he unburdens his soul to the
moon-kissed landscape. “O God,” he groans, “is
there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician
there? Is there no place in this great wide world
where I may come to the measure of a man, to the
fulness of my birthright unhindered and uniram-
meled? For over three centuries I have been
hounded across continents, fettered and sold as a
beast of burden. For over threescore years the bay-
ing of the bloodhound has struck terror to my soul,
and as the panting hart of the field I have sought
shelter and protection in forbidding swamps. My
shoulders bear the scars of ten thousand lashes,
placed there in anger by merciless men. Aye, and
by men who boasted the fear of God in their hearts!
For years I have been robbed and cheated of my
hard-earned goods, and driven like a dog from place
to place. And to-day the stench of my burning
flesh rises from the commons of a hundred towns
and assails the nostrils of an outraged civilization.
Men, aye, women and children, too, fight for pieces
of my charred or bullet-torn flesh that they may
gloat over it even as do vultures over a new-found
carcass. Justice unbinds her eyes and places a pecu-
liarly labled weight in the balances when I am
dragged trembling before her.

“TJ flounder in the darkness, but no one tenders
a light. My ignorance is a byword in the world,
but no one offers to relieve it. In my struggle up-
ward obstacles are deliberately thrown in my way,
and no one will show me how to overcome them.
My religion is laughed at by the thousands and
branded/as superstition by the multitudes, but no
one will lead me to the way of true salvation.

“But hark! I hear a sound as of men in jubi-
lation! From their lips drop words of strange, but
wondrous love. They are singing a new song, the
words of which roll and crash like the voice of
mighty thunders, they swell and sweep forward
like the sound of many waters; they soothe and
strengthen like the sweet balm from Mount Gilead.
Methinks it is the battle-cry of men up in arms
against that which has brought me to my low estate.

They speak and sing like men who are armed with
a mighty weapon and panoplied for battle to the
death. In the song they are singing I detect the
clarion call to the defense of all that which they
hold dear. ‘The words of the song they are singing
come sweeping over the hills and break in a won-
derful cataract of harmony about my quickened
ears. The words? Ah, listen as they roll and swell
and quicken and conquer!

A mighty Fortress is our God,

A trusty Shield and Weapon;

He helps us free from ev’ry need

That hath us now o’ertaken.

The old Evil Foe

Now means deadly woe;

Deep guile and great might

Are his dread arms in fight,

On earth is not his equal.

“Truly, men who sing such a song have that for
which I have been looking and longing, they have
that which will bring peace to my troubled soul.
These men carry on their lips the words of ever-
lasting peace, and on their tongues rests the remedy
for all my ills. But will they hear my ery? Will
they hear the supplication of one who is despised
and buffeted? Will they rescue one who is stumb-
ling in the darkness and confounded because of a
multitude of troubles? Will they lead him to that
‘Mighty Fortress’ and let him take refuge behind
that ‘trusty Shield and Weapon’? Will they guide
me to Him that He might help me ‘free from ev’ry
need that hath me now o’ertaken’? Oh, will they?
Dare they brave the storm of prejudice and bitter
hatred towards me, take me’by the hand| and lead
me to the Rock that is higher than I?

“These men who have met in a congress of jubi-
lation have the balm of Gilead, they have the oint-
ment with which to heal my throbbing wounds, but
will they administer it that I may come ‘unto a
perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the
fulness of Christ’? Or will they leave me to rot
and die in the disgusting lazarettos where I have
been bound for these many years? Dear God, will
they! Oh, what is the answer?”

The moon hid for a moment behind a passing
cloud, and when she again showed her face, the
phantom of sorrow had disappeared. R. 0.1L. L.

Every MAN should work in the next ten years
as though he were the only man Christ was counting
on to carry the Gospel to the world.

J. Campbell White.

TUSTIN