“What is this that I hear of you?” asked his father at last. “You are speaking everywhere of that Man who was crucified more than 200 years ago. Do you dare to tell me that you are one of His followers? A follower of that Nazarene?”
“I am a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, dear Father, He died to save me from my sins, and to give me a Home with Himself in heaven. I cannot but tell others about Him, and try to get them to come to Him.”
The worshiper of Rome’s gods and goddesses looked at the boy in amazement. The bold confession of a faith which had brought hundreds to a cruel death in the arena, or by sword and by fire and torture. This frail child to brave these horrors so calmly! “My father, I should have spoken to you before, but I feared. Will you—will you take Him for your Saviour?” Cyril pleaded. “Think of all it means —such a God! such a Saviour! such a Home!”
The infuriated father raised a threatening hand. “Be silent! I do think of what it means—ignominy, persecution—death. I will not shelter you a moment longer if you persist in holding this faith. Give it up, my son, and sacrifice to our gods ere it be too late.”
“I cannot give it up, Father. I cannot offer one grain of incense to your gods; no matter what happens to me. All will be well!” The boy’s steadfastness and radiant face staggered the man for a moment, then anger overcame him, and he laid his hands roughly on his son and thrust him out into the street, shutting and barring the door behind him.
By this time the youthful preaches of the gospel was so well known that he was soon brought before the Roman Procurator. A kindly man he must have been, for it was not to his liking to punish the boy. “I will allow your father to take you into his home again, and by and by you will inherit his property, instead of being outcast or dead. It is far better that you should be wise and take concern for your future.”
Cyril smiled as he replied: “It does not make me unhappy to be turned out of doors. I do not mind the suffering. God is my Father, and He has a better Home for me. I am taking the best concern for my future by trusting the Lord Jesus. I am not afraid to die.”
The Procurator, astonished at the courage of the boy (for he did not know it was God-given) ordered him to be bound and led to the place of execution. “Show him that,” he said privately to the officers, “then bring him back to me. He will change his mind.”
Arrived at the spot, there they bade the boy look upon all the grim preparations for his burning, and watched him to see if he quailed. Cyril, through the sustaining power of God, was enabled to see beyond it all. These things which lay between him and his Saviour and his Home in heaven were very small. The exceeding and eternal weight of glory was what he saw. “He saw his Master in the sky, and called on Him to save.”
He turned with a questioning glance to the officers, wondering why they did not at once proceed to put the sentence into execution.
They took him back in silence, but the Procurator in real compassion reasoned with him, and tried to persuade him to abjure that name which is above every name. It was in vain. Cyril would not deny the Lord who had redeemed him. “Your fire and sword are powerless to hurt me. I am going to my heavenly Home. I pray you, make an end quickly, that I may reach it the sooner.”
“Take him hence, and dispatch him,” said the Procurator.
The boy and the officers went once more through the streets to the burning place, and as they went many children, and grown people too, mocked and scoffed. But some there were who looked earnestly upon him and wondered if, after all, he was right. And if so, what would become of them? He was going to a fire which could last only for a time, but those who rejected that Lord in whom Cyril trusted—were they not doomed to everlasting fire?
There was a great crowd of people at the place of execution, and many burst into tears. He looked at them in great pity. “My lot is happier than yours. You should rejoice for me,” said he. “You would rejoice did you but know the Saviour and the beautiful City to which I am going.”
Thus he suffered, glorifying God in the cruel death, and entered into life — “forever with the Lord.”
E.E.E.
ML 08/29/1965