Execrations, foul language, inarticulate screams of rage rose from the throng on the bank. The old couple were pushed farther into the stream. The water had risen to the old man's arm-pits. It was up to the woman's throat. Again they were halted.
"Lim Tsu and Oo-a, his wife, will you give up the Jesus belief? If not, we will drown you."
The old woman's thin treble rose in answer:
"I cannot give up the Jesus belief. Jesus is my Saviour."
"You may drown us if you will," answered her husband. "That will not hurt us much. It will soon be over. But we can never deny the Lord Jesus."
For a few moments the mob-leaders paused. They were plainly nonplussed by such constancy. Even the rabble on the bank hushed their howling.
Oo-a's grey head swam on the surface of the clear green stream. She turned her face upward. Before her were the steep green hills, thick with trees and ferns and grasses, and all starred with flowers, on which she had looked since her childhood. A bird sang in the thicket. The cicadas shrilled ceaselessly in the hot sunshine. All the world was at peace. Why was man so cruel? She lifted her eyes to the blue sky which bent over her. Her thin tremulous voice was heard in prayer:
"Pe Siong-te."[#]—"Father God, help a weak old woman. Make her strong to confess her Lord. For Jesus' sake."
[#] Pronounced, Pay Seeong-tay.
Then the old man lifted up his voice, and she joined him in that immortal prayer which ever circles the world around and runs through all time: