Christmas at Old Salem

I love history. I have typed before on here about my love for the Amish- another group I particularly love are the Moravians. The Moravians first settled in what is now Winston - Salem in 1753 in a community they named Bethabara. (read about Bethabara here).

The Moravians consider themselves the first Protestant Church since they were founded by John Hus, a forerunner to Martin Luther the great Reformer.

They originally came to America as missionaries and to provide a church for German speaking immigrants to the New World. I have always loved their battle cry... "to win for the Lamb who was slain the reward for his suffering."

On December 23rd we visited Old Salem (the city version of the 18th century Moravians).

If you have never been I encourage you to walk through the town and to visit Bethabara Park (my personal favorite Moravian establishment). What a sacred place both locations are... full of the footprints of old souls who lived and died for the Savior.

The favorite stop in Old Salem (pictures below) is the old Bakery. he original wood birgnin oven is still in operation and still bakes up to 900 loaves a day of Moravian bread, cookies, and sugar - cake. You can even watch an old fashioned baker at work.

John's grandfather was actually one of the old fashioned bakers in his golden years.

Phillip Philbeck's Painting, "Evening Stroll in Old Salem"

The Hoots at the Old Water Pump.

Enjoying the day with Grandparents.

In the old stable.

Here is what Andrew Murray wrote about the Moravian people... "The brethren promised, one by one, that they would be the Savior's true followers. Self - will, self- love, disobedience - they bade these farewell. They would seek to be poor in spirit, no one was to seek his own profit before that of others."

A wonderful old Moravian Hymn written in 1778 by Hen­ri­et­te von Hayn and translated to English by Fred­er­ick Fos­ter in 1789...

Jesus makes my heart rejoice,
I’m His sheep, and know His voice;
He’s a Shepherd, kind and gracious,
And His pastures are delicious;
Constant love to me He shows,
Yea, my very name He knows.

Trusting His mild staff always,
I go in and out in peace;
He will feed me with treasure
Of His grace in richest measure;
When athirst to Him I cry,
Living water He’ll supply.

Should not I for gladness leap,
Led by Jesus as His sheep?
For when these blest days are over,
To the arms of my dear Savior
I shall be conveyed to rest:
Amen, yea, my lot is blest.