The first place to which the fugitives directed their steps was a village about fifty miles from the capital, where dwelt a Christian who, with his wife, offered them hospitality and protection. This man had sent a noble message to the persecuted ones in the city. It ran thus:—
“Let all the Christians who are compelled to run away for their lives come to me. I will take care of them. As long as I am safe they are safe, and as long as I have food they shall share it.”
Not an hour’s rest was taken until the house of their friend was reached. Of course they were received with open arms. Food was placed before them, and mats were spread in a safe place on which they might rest. But neither food nor repose would the fugitives take until they had joined the Christian family in thanking God for their escape and in singing His praise.
“Sing the hymn of dear Ramanisa,” said Ravonino as he seated himself at the side of Rafaravavy, after arranging her mat.
The host smiled as he turned over the leaves of a Malagasy hymn-book. “All the fugitives like that hymn,” he said.
“Do you wonder?” returned his guest. “Before the last great persecution he was one of our most faithful preachers of the Gospel, and when trouble came he always forgot himself in his eager desire to help and comfort others. Many a time has he guided and strengthened the Lord’s people when they have been compelled to fly,—to travel weary and footsore by night, to wander in the dark forests, and hide in the gloomy caves. Wherever he went there was sunshine, because his heart was very full of the love of Jesus; and when he was led out to be speared, was he not faithful to the last? Perhaps we may be permitted to sing his own hymn along with him some day before the throne. No wonder that we love the words of Ramanisa. They called him Josiah when he was baptized, but he was Ramanisa when the Lord called him, and I think that is the name that is written in the Book of Life.”
The hymn composed by this good native, which these Christians began to sing—and which is incorporated, as we have said, in the Malagasy hymn-book,—is still, and will doubtless continue to be, a great favourite with the Christians of Madagascar. The following is a translation of three of the verses. See Note 1.
“Loud to the Lord your voices raise,
Extol His name, exalt His praise;
Publish the wonders of His hand
O’er all the earth, in every land.
“Oh! God, our God, to Thee we cry,
Jesus, the Saviour, be Thou nigh;
Oh! sacred Spirit, hear our prayer,
And save the afflicted from despair.
“Scarce can we find a place of rest,
Save dens and caves, with hunger press’d;
Yet Thy compassion is our bliss,
Pilgrims amidst a wilderness.”
Poor Rafaravavy had full proof of the truth embodied in these lines, both as to the affliction and the bliss, before many days were over. The soldiers being strong hardy men, burdened only with their arms, and with little clothing, pushed after the three fugitives with so much vigour that they arrived at the place where the latter had rested on the second day of their flight. While soldiers were thus close to them the utmost caution and close concealment were necessary. They remained where they were, therefore, and every morning, before dawn, Ravonino stole out to a neighbouring mountain with Rafaravavy and her maid. There they lay hid among the craggy rocks until night-fall, when they returned to their friend’s house.
But soon this place of concealment became known to the persecuting prime minister, Rainiharo, who directed the soldiers to search the mountain before going to the village. This they did, but did not find the fugitives, for, as it was cold that morning, they had agreed to run the risk of remaining in the house!