When the Lawrence mills were on fire a number of years ago, after they had fallen in there was only one room left entire, and in it were three mission Sunday-School children imprisoned. The crowd got shovels, and picks, and crowbars, and were soon working to set the children free, Night came on, and they had not yet reached the children.
When they were near them, by some mischance a lantern broke and the ruins caught fire. They tried to put it out but could not succeed. They could talk with the children and even pass them some food, and encourage them to keep up. But, alas, the flames drew nearer and nearer to this prison.
Superhuman were the efforts made to rescue the children; the men fought bravely back the flames; but the fire gained fresh strength and returned to claim its victims. The efforts of the fireman were hopeless. When the children knew their fate, they knelt down and commenced to sing the little hymn they had been taught in their Sunday-school days, O, how sweet—: “Let others seek a home below, where flames devour and waves overflow.”
The flames had now reached them; the stifling smoke began to pour in their little room, and they sank, one by one, upon the floor. A few moments more and the fire circled around them and then their souls were taken into the bosom of God.—MOODY.