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THE LUTHERAN VISITOR January g. 1902 BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE. If you've a Kmv-haired mother lu the old home far away, Sit. down and write the letter You put off day by day. Don’t wait until her tired etepe Reaoh Heaveu'e pearly Kate, But ehow her that you think of her Before it i» too latet If you've a tender meeraKe Or a ioviuK word to May, Don't wait till you forKet If, But whleper it today. Who kuowe what bitter memoriee May haunt you if you wait, So make your loved onen happy Before it Im too late. We live but in the preoeut. The future la unknown; Tomorrow in a mystery. Today ie all our own. The chance that fortune lends to us May vanish while we wait, So spend your life’s rich treasure Before it is t oo late. The tender words unspoken, Tile letters never sent, The Iouk forgotten messaKes, The wealth of love unspent,— For these some hearts are breaking. For these some loved ones wait; So show them that yon care for them Before it is too late. THE SIEGING COBBLER OF HAM BURG While crowds of people were passitiK through the streets 'of Hamburg one fine summer’s evening, on their way to hear the music in Altona, a shoe maker, sitting under a shade be fore his shop door, was busily engaged with a shoe. He rested from his work, singing one of the most beautiful psalms in old German, scarcely lifting his eyes from the role, which occupied his whole attention, and quite indifferent to the crowd that passed before him, when a young man stopped suddenly and ad dressed him: “Well, my friend, you seem quite happy and contented!” The speaker was a student. His marked features, his black eyes, his high nose and his dark complexion showed that he be longed to the Hebrew race. The cobbler lifted his eyes and an swered cheerfully: “Happy and contented I am, in truth, sir; why should I not be so?” “Idon’t know; hut all are not as you. Your poverty might dis tress you. I suppose you have only to provide for yourself?” “You are mistaken there, sir,” he answered; “I "have to feed a wife and seven children with the work of these hands. I am a poor man, it is true; but lean sing and do my work.” “I must confess,” said the young man, “that I am Very much surprised to see a poor fel low like you so contented. “Stranger,” said the cobbler, putting down his work and tak ing hold of his arm with a seri ous expression* “I am not so poor as you think. I am the son of a King.” The student turned his head and went away, saying to him self: “The poor man is evident ly mad! It is his madness that makes him so happy. I thought I should hear from him. the se cret of his happiness, hut I have lost my time.” A week passed by and the stu dent, again having occasion to pass down the same street, found the cobbler sitting in the same place, singing as cheerfully as before. The young man, in pass ing, lifted his^ap with a sneering salutation, exclaiming: ‘‘Good morning, Mr. Prince.!’ “Stop, my friend,” said the cobbler, putting down his work; “a word of explanation, if you please. You only' left me so suddenly the other evening be cause you thought I was mad.” “I must say I believed it,” an swered the other. “Well, my friend. 1 am not mad. What I said I said in ear nest. I am a son of the King. Would you like to hear a song on my royalty? 1 will just sing one.” The young man did not doubt that to accept the offer would afford him some amusement and great satisfaction to the poor man, and he therefore asked him to sing. The cobbler began to sing a hymn on this verse: “Thy kingdom come.” When he fin ished he asked the young man if he understood it; but beseemed still to he under his old - impres sion. “I must then,” said the cob bler, “explain to you in detail concerning the kingdom of Christ and the glory of the king.” He began, then, with the divine promise made in the be ginning, at the banishment from paradise, that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the serpent. He showed him this promise, increasing in light from age to age throughout the prophecies, revealing always with clearer evidence, the Re deemer’s kingdom. He showed him how all things that are written in the law of Moses, in the Prophets and in the Psalms, about Jesus Christ, have been fulfilled; how it hehooyed Christ to suffer these things, and enter into glory; how all power in heaven and earth was com mitted to him, and how he actu ally established a kingdom which shall never be destroyed, and uniting in holy fellowship Jews and Gentiles. And with eyes glistening with hope and love, he showed theyoung man, in language which the depth of his feelings made eloquent, how the subject of this glorious king dom is a child of God, an heir, a joint-heir with Christ, the king, and how-he shall reign with him forever and ever. “Now,” said the cobbler, tak ing the hand of the young Jew ish student who sat beside him, and whose whole mind was filled with things he had heard for the first time in his life, about the old promises made to his forefathers. “Now, young man, don’t you see how I could say, ‘I am a son of the King,’ and why I am so happy and contented? It is because I know Jesus. I believe in him and I love him. And it is the sacred Scriptures which tell me that all things are mine, whether life, or death, or things present, or things to come; all are mine, be cause I am Christ’s.” Then, looking the young Is raelite in the face, the old Chris tian said: “Believest thou the prophets? I know that thou dost; because I see by thy features that thou descendest from those who be lieve in the prophetfc. You must believe in him about whom the prophets have spoken.” The young man listened in silence. St range thoughts crossed his mind. At length he timid ly asked this question: “Where may I learn more of those things, because I see that you believe and that you have ppace? Oh, that I might have it also! for as yet I do not possess it.” ’ “Here,” said the old man, handing him a volume of the holy Scriptures. “This book you must read attentively at home; and whilst you battle with tjie enemies of your soul, I shall, as Moses on the mount, pray for you without ceasing, and you shall also ask somebody to pray for yoQ; somebody whom you don’t know yet, but who knows you and who is greater than Moses, who is above all.” The young Jew took the book, and, pressing with gratitude the old man’s hand, took off his cap and saluted him with respect. “Oh, that the Lord Jesus,” said the old man, lifting his eyes toward heaven and taking to his work again, “may also graft this one in his own olive tree!” The story does not end here. The old shoemaker’s prayer was heard. The young Jew was converted to Christ, and has since distin guished himself by his zeal and success as a missiqnary among his own people.—Selected. s.'ynti HOW TO MANAGE THE IRREPRES SIBLE BOY A writer I like for her earnest ness tells the mother'always to- keep a smile and a kiss for her boy. He may be anything but a model boy; he may he thought less and disobedient—but let him fee! that he has an unfailing friend in his mother. Trust your boy. If he knows you have faith in him, it will prove a barrier to many a wrong doer. He may disappoint your trust. Try him again, and again. Let him know that by gones are by gones and give him your love as a corner stone for building anew. Don’t give him too much reli gion. Extremes meet. If you hold the reins too tight there will be a reaction. Teech him the love and sympathy and help fulness of Christ, but let your teaching be sunshiny. And please don’t nag him. If there is any one course that is more wearing to a disposition than to be always “picking at” one and throwing up past errors, then I don’t know what it is. Would a tree ever take firm root and grow straight if, after plant ing it, you went every little while and gave it a twist? A little lecture privately administered will do more good than a half dozen daily naggings. Be a companion for your boy. He needs your society more dur ing boyhood than he did when he was in the nursery. Win his confidence and have him open his heart to you. You will be richly repaid. -r — When you have done the best you can do then trustjn God for the rest; but do not fall into the mistake of expecting him to make up for the cohsequences of your indifference or neglect. /