YOU have all certainly heard or read more than once about Armenia, a country that is situated not very far from Palestine. Thousands of people live there, who know the Lord Jesus, and for this reason have much to suffer and endure from the Mahommedan population.
Many, many times bloody persecutions of the Christians have taken place in Armenia, in which even women and children were not spared. Many died under the Turkish sword with the name of the Lord Jesus on their lips, and many times it has happened, that even children would not deny their Savior by, uttering the name of Mahomet. They were then mercilessly murdered.
What a blessing it is, to live in a land where the Lord Jesus is freely spoken of, and where one may love and serve Him, without fear of punishment or persecution!
But not alone from the Turks, who would gladly exterminate all Christians, but also from savage tribes; that inhabit the wild mountain regions of Armenia must the poor Armenians suffer.
I will relate an anecdote here about them. Close to a little Armenian village, stood a modest dwelling, hidden in the trees, in which lived a family, of five persons—father, mother and three children. Several times already a horde of Kurds—; as the mountain dwellers are called—had come on a plundering expedition to the village, taking everything they could lay hands on, and ill-treating, and even killing the inhabitants. But the little house behind the trees had so far been spared.
On a certain day, however, suddenly the cry of fear was heard: “The Kurds are coming! The Kurds are coming!” A moment later on they came, galloping on their little horses, the blood-thirsty, cruel men. The people of the village were the first to suffer. Their horses, that contained only what was strictly necessary, were searched from top to bottom and plundered, and then men, women and children were dragged out and carried off. Whoever dared to resist, was cut down by their swords, without mercy. When nothing more was to be found in the village, they ransacked the neighborhood, and then discovered the little house behind the trees. The parents, who saw the danger approaching, had just time to flee with their two children, Arschalius and Aram, but the youngest they were obliged to leave behind. O, how grieved the mother was, especially, when she found that they could not take the little one with them. What would become of the little fellow? But they must keep on, on! There was no time for thought, for the robbers were at their heels.
Then suddenly the father was hit by a bullet from one of his pursuers. He staggered for a moment, then fell to the ground mortally wounded. What must the mother do now, and her two children? She bent over her dying husband who implored her to leave him there, and try if possible to save herself and the children.
For a moment she hesitated, but when she heard the wild cries of her pursuers behind her—she took leave of her husband and fled on further with her two children, who, from fatigue were scarcely able to move. Their little feet were all blistered, and they were so hungry and so thirsty. Yet they must run on without stopping as their lives depended on their doing so.
But it was all in vain. The pursuers came steadily nearer, and in a little while they had taken Arschalius prisoner. One of the Kurds threw a shawl over her head, put her in front of him on his, horse, and galloped away with her, Meanwhile another had followed Aram and his mother, and it was not very long before Aram too was torn away.
So the mother remained alone, for they left her behind. She sat on the roadside and shed bitter tears. In one day bereft of her husband and three children! What must she do now?
She must have been seated there for some hours, and it was almost dark, when accidentally a Turkish officer passed by. He appeared to pity her, and asked the cause of her great sorrow. She told him how she was obliged to leave her dying husband behind, and had been bereft of her three children, not one of whom was left to her.
The officer was touched at the deep sorrow of the woman, and he promised to do all in his power to get back her children for her. He did succeed, after much trouble and exertion. He had the country around searched by soldiers, and at last the children were found hidden in a cave. So the mother got back, at least two of them. She then returned by another way to their home, for fear of the Kurds. But in what a condition did she find it. In the village most of the houses were razed to the ground, and not much was left of their own home. The youngest child had entirely vanished, and was never heard of again. What must they do? No house, no food, almost no clothes! It was a dreadful condition to be in! As the climax of misfortune, the mother now fell sick. All the miseries she had undergone, and the privations he had endured, had broken her and in a few days she followed her husband to the glorious land where sorrow and tears are no more found.
Arschalius and Aram were now orphans. Sympathizing people had given them food now and then while their mother was ill, but these people possessed nothing for themselves, and the children could not count on their pity any longer.
Just at this time in different cities in Armenia, large orphan-homes were built, and as mane thousand children were left orphans through the many persecutions of Christians, and through the repeated incursions of the Kurds, Christians in Europe decided to come to the aid of these poor helpless ones by erecting institutions for orphans.
Different missionaries who had volunteered for this work, went through the villages seeking the unfortunate children and taking them to the orphanages. In this way Arschalius and Aram were discovered, and shortly afterward taken to one of the institutions. What a delightful and blessed change! Especially for Arschalius, for in the orphanage she learned to know about the Lord Jesus, and when she was a little older, she began to teach other little ones about the Savior, and what He had done for us, in redeeming us with His precious blood.
And now she is a great help in the orphanages, taking care of little ones who, like herself, had lost their parents.
Pray for the poor Armenians who must suffer so much, and be thankful that your lot is not like theirs.
“A Father of the fatherless, and a Judge of the widows, is God in His holy habitation.” Ps. 68:5.
ML-12/19/1920