LEAVING his little hut on the mountain side early one morning, a shepherd set out to seek his sheep.
Snow had been falling fast all night, the wind blowing it in whirling eddies among the rocks; already it was deep enough in places to cover the sheep entirely. It was the first snowstorm of the year on those southern German mountains, in the days when the name of Luther was first being heard in the cities and towns.
Anxiously peering among the fast falling flakes, the shepherd had not gone far when to his surprise he espied the form of a man lying insensible in the snow, with a little child wrapped closely to his breast. Briskly rubbing his hands and limbs, he succeeded in getting the man to revive, and by degrees got him to the hut, and laid him on his bed. The stranger was dressed as a peasant, but from his manners and speech it was apparent that the dress was only a disguise. The shepherd and his wife did all they could for the sufferer; but nothing could persuade the child to leave the bed on which her dying father lay.
The storm still raged on the mountain, and the narrow path to the village was hazardous enough in fine weather; but seeing the serious condition of the poor man, the shepherd offered to brave the storm and fetch a priest. But to their astonishment he had no wish to see one. Then he told them strange words—strange, and new to them—that he needed no priest, for his faith was in Christ alone. He spoke of the death on the cross, how He had suffered there, the Just for the unjust; and how that God, being fully satisfied with what He had done, was able freely to forgive all who trusted in Jesus. With wondering eyes they listened; never had they heard such words before.
There he lay, a stranger and alone, dying, and leaving behind him a beautiful child; yet on his young and noble face there was no trace of distress or fear, but a look of peaceful calm. He told how the babe's young mother had died for the name of Jesus, and how he was an exile from home and country for the same cause. Then, writing a few lines on a scrap of parchment, he asked the shepherd to take it, when he was gone, with the child, to the lady at the nearest castle.
Clasping the child in his arms and raising his eyes, he prayed, "Father of the fatherless, to Thee I commit my child. Orphaned for Thy sake, Thou wilt care for her. Father, lead her into Thy light." Before the snowstorm had ceased, his spirit had left the weary body, and he was with the Savior he had learned to know and love, and for whose sake he had lost everything down here.
Has my dear young reader learned to know and trust the same Savior? For you to confess Jesus as your Lord would not mean exile and banishment, but, on the contrary, it would give great joy to your parents. If you believe in your heart that Jesus died for you, do not be ashamed to confess His name; confession will bring true joy and happiness to your soul.
The stranger's last prayer was answered; for in spite of the persecutions and opposition to the gospel in those dark days, the child grew up to be a true follower of her father's Savior, and to lead others into the light also.
'Tis just Thy name of Jesus wins a child,
And bears him on all through the desert wild;
The aged lisp that name with dying breath,
And prove its sweetness in the hour of death.
We are not poor, O Lord, for we have Thee!
And now we're waiting just Thy face to see!
In this cold world how cheering is Thy love,
“I Jesus" means no change in Thee above.