IT WAS IN the days of the persecutions in Scotland years ago, when the humble followers of Jesus were being hunted, imprisoned and martyred. Nestled among the heather covered hills was a little village. One day one of the king's officers with his soldiers came looking for "Bible folks," as he called them.
Thinking the men would spare the children, the fathers and mothers had fled to an unknown hiding place. When the soldiers came they found the little children hiding out among the heather, in nooks, behind rocks and in caves, their hearts throbbing with terror. They were made to come out from their hiding places and were all brought together, a frightened group, clinging to each other, too fearful to cry or speak. There were about thirty of them, from six to ten years of age.
The grim cruel officer tried to frighten the children into answering his questions and had his men point their gun barrels into the children's faces. Then in a gruff voice he said, "Now you all have to die unless you answer my questions. Where are your parents?"
The children clung closer to each other, but did not answer. Then the officer, in a loud angry voice called them young rebels. "If you will not answer me, I will have you shot at once," he shouted.
He made them kneel down in rows and put handkerchiefs over their eyes. Poor little things! How their hearts pounded with fear, but their piteous cries failed to melt the hardened hearts of the men. One little maiden, just eight years old, looked imploringly into the face of a soldier, and asked, "Will you let me hold my little brother's hand? We could die better that way." She took little Alec's hand and as she did so the little fellow said, "Will it be hard, Margie?"
The officer gave the order to fire, and the muskets went off with a terrible bang! Some of the children thought they were shot and fell down with fear. But the men had fired over their heads and there was only powder in their guns.
Having failed to get what he wanted, the leader again told the children they would die this time, but commanded them mockingly to pray first. One brave little fellow answered, "We are too little to pray." Then a little hand went up: "Please sir, we can't pray, but we can sing." It was a little girl, and before anyone could forbid her, she stood up and sang,
"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want;
He maketh me down to lie
In pastures green; He leadeth me
The quiet waters by."
Then all the children took up the hymn and sang. The soldiers were overcome, feeling they were in the presence of a greater One who was on the side of the children. Thoroughly beaten they marched off, and as they disappeared over the hills the children's voices still sounded in their ears, singing:
"Yea, though I walk in death's dark vale,
Yet I will fear no ill,
For Thou art with me, and Thy rod
And staff me comfort still."
Messages of the Love of God 5/4/1975