Leonard Dober and a carpenter named David Nitschmann
"Two young Moravians heard of an island in the West Indies where an atheist British owner had 2000 to 3000 slaves. And the owner had said, "No preacher, no clergyman, will ever stay on this island. If he's ship wrecked we'll keep him in a separate house until he has to leave, but he's never going to talk to any of us about God, I'm through with all that nonsense." Three thousand slaves from the jungles of Africa brought to an island in the Atlantic and there to live and die without hearing of Christ.
Two young Moravians heard about it. They sold themselves to the British planter and used the money they received from their sale, for he paid no more than he would for any slave, to pay their passage out to his island for he wouldn't even transport them. As the ship left its' pier in the river at Hamburg and was going out into the North Sea carried with the tide, the Moravians had come from Herrenhut to see these two lads off, in their early twenties. Never to return again, for this wasn't a four-year term, they sold themselves into lifetime slavery. Simply that as slaves, they could be as Christians where these others were. The families were there weeping, for they knew they would never see them again. And they wondered why they were going and questioned the wisdom of it. As the gap widened and the housings had been cast off and were being curled up there on the pier, and the young boys saw the widening gap, one lad with his arm linked through the arm of his fellow, raised his hand and shouted across the gap the last words that were heard from them, they were these, "MAY THE LAMB THAT WAS SLAIN RECEIVE THE REWARD OF HIS SUFFERING!" This became the call of Moravian missions. And this is the only reason for being, That the Lamb that was slain may receive the reward of His suffering!" - by P. Reidhead
Founder of the Moravian Church that sent out over 3000 missionaries
O Thou, to whose all-searching sight
The darkness shineth as the
Search, prove my heart;
it pants for Thee;
O burst these
bonds, and set it free!
Wash out its stains, refine its dross,
Nail my affections to the Cross;
Hallow each thought; let all within
as thou, my Lord, art clean!
If in this darksome wild
Be Thou my Light, be Thou my Way;
No foes, no violence
No fraud, while Thou, my God art near.
floods my soul o'erflow,
When sinks my heart in waves of woe,
Jesus, Thy timely aid impart, And raise my head, and cheer my heart.
Savior, where'er Thy steps I see, Dauntless, untired, I follow
Thee; O let They hand support me still, And lead me to Thy holy
hill! If rough and thorny be the way, My strength proportion to
my day; Till toil, and grief, and pain shall cease, Were all is
calm, and joy, and peace.
Many have asked us for an update regarding our move up to Philly. Presently we are prepping our home to be rented out as well as some last minute issues that came up with our furnace. Our prayer is that God would lead divinely lead renters that He wants in our home. This will be important as this will be part of our support in Philly.
Our prayer goal is to be resident in Philly with p. Tony Pallotta and his family the beginning of November. Be praying also for p. Tony as he prepares his home, etc for the move. He already has employment up there.
We are grateful for the incredible support and prayers of all of you and the Body for this great new adventure of faith. You can see what's happening in Philly at ggcphila.org. Thank you and God bless you rope-holders!
THE MAN WHO FAILS
Alfred J. Waterhouse
Let others sing to the hero who wins in the ceaseless fray, Who, over the crushed and the fallen, pursueth his upward way. For him let them weave the laurel, to him be their paeans sung, Whom the kindly fates have chosen, who are happy their loved among. But mine be a different message, some soul in its stress to reach; To bind o'er the wound of failure the balm of pitying speech; To whisper, "Be up and doing, for courage at last prevails. " I sing — who have supped with Failure — I sing to the man who fails. I know how the gray cloud darkens, and mantles the soul in gloom; I know how the spirit hearkens to voices of doubt or of doom; I know how the tempter mutters his terrible word, "Despair!" But the heart has its secret chamber, and I know that our God is there. Our years are as moments only; our failures he counts as naught; The stone that the builders rejected perchance is the one that he sought