Seven Men Went Singing
One of the strangest experiences in my life is connected with war, says Nordenberg, an eminent engineer in Finland.
I offered my services to the government and was appointed to be an officer in General Mannerheim's army. It was a terrible time. We besieged the town. It had been taken by the Red Army and we retook it. A number of Red prisoners were under my guard. Seven of them were to be shot at dawn on Monday. I shall never forget the preceding Sunday. The seven doomed men were kept in the basement of the town hall. In the passage, my men stood at attention with their rifles.
The atmosphere was filled with hatred. My soldiers were drunk with victory and taunted their prisoners, who swore as much as they could and beat the walls with their bleeding fists. Others called for their wives and children who were far away.
Then something happened. One of the men doomed to death began to sing! "He is mad," was everybody's first thought. But I had noticed this man, Koskinen, had not raved and cursed like the others. Quietly he had sat on his bench, a picture of utter despair. Nobody said anything to him-each was carrying his burden in his own way and Koskinen sang, rather waveringly at first, then his voice grew stronger and died out, and became natural and free. All the prisoners turned and looked at the singer who sang.
"Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast,
There by His love o'ershaded,
Sweetly my soul shall rest.
"Hark, 'tis the voice of angels,
Borne in a song to me
Over the fields of glory,
Over the jasper sea!"
Over and over again Koskinen sang that verse and when he finished, everyone was quiet for a few minutes until a wild-looking individual broke out with, "Where did you get that, you fool? Are you trying to make us religious?"
Koskinen looked at his comrades and his eyes filled with tears. Then he asked quietly, "Comrades, will you listen to me for a minute? You asked me where I got this song: it was from some gospel workers. I heard it three weeks ago. At first I also laughed at this song, but it got me. It is cowardly to hide your beliefs. The God my mother believed in has now become my God also. I cannot tell you how it happened, but I know that it happened. I lay awake last night and suddenly I felt that I had to find the Saviour and hide in Him. Then I prayed-like the thief on the cross-that Christ would forgive me and cleanse my sinful soul and make me ready to stand before Him whom I shall meet soon.
"It was a strange night," continued Koskinen. "There were times when everything seemed to shine around me. Verses from the Bible and from song books came to my mind. They brought a message of the crucified Saviour and the blood that cleanses from sin and of the home He has prepared for us. I thanked Him, accepted it, and since then this verse has been sounding inside me. It was God's answer to my prayer. I could no longer keep it to myself! Within a few hours I shall be with the Lord, saved by His grace."
Koskinen's face shone as by an inward light. His comrades sat there quietly. He himself stood there transfixed. My soldiers were listening to what this Red revolutionary had to say.
"You are right, Koskinen," said one of his comrades at last, "if only I knew that there is mercy for me, too! But I have reviled God and trampled on all that is holy. Now I realize that there is a hell and that is the proper place for me."
He sank to the ground with despair depicted on his face. "Pray for me, Koskinen," he groaned, "Tomorrow I shall die and my soul will be in the hands of the Devil."
And there these two Red soldiers went down on their knees and prayed for each other. It was no long prayer, but it opened heaven to both, and we who listened to it forgot our hatred. It melted in the light from heaven, for here two men who were soon to die sought reconciliation with God. A door leading into the invisible stood ajar and we were entranced by the sight.
Let me tell you shortly that by the time it was four o'clock all Koskinen's comrades had followed his example and begun to pray. The change in the atmosphere was indescribable. Some of them sat on the floor, others talked of spiritual things.
The night had almost gone and day was dawning. No one had had a moment's sleep. "Sing the song once more for us, Koskinen," said one of them. And you should have heard them sing! Not only that song, but verses and choruses long forgotten came forth from their memories as buds in the sunshine. The soldiers on guard united their voices with them.
The town clock struck six. How I wished I could have begged for grace for these men, but I knew it was impossible.
Between two rows of soldiers they marched out to execution. One of them asked to be allowed once more to sing Koskinen's song. Permission was granted. Then they asked to die with uncovered faces-and with hands raised to heaven they sang,
"Safe in the arms of Jesus,
Safe on His gentle breast."
When the last lines had died out, the lieutenant gave word, "Fire!" and the seven Red soldiers had fought their last fight. We inclined our heads in silent prayer.
What had happened in the hearts of the others I do not know; but so far as I was concerned I was a new man from that hour. I had met Christ in one of His disciples and I had seen enough to realize that I too, could be His. "The Lord looketh from heaven; he beholdeth all the sons of men." Ps. 33:13.
"Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ:" Rom. 5:1.
Dear reader, Repent, believe, and trust God. Go singing into heaven also.
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