A Tale of Spanish Treachery
During the sixteenth century the Spaniards were a great power in Europe, for their fleets dominated the seas and their armies were mighty upon the land. More often than not they were fighting the battles of the Pope of Rome and endeavouring to subdue Protestant countries to his hateful yoke.
At the time of which I write Holland was under Spanish dominion, and in order to arrest the march of Protestantism in that country Charles V. and his son Philip, kings of Spain had introduced the relentless Inquisition.
Sad indeed was the lot of the Hollanders then; they were greatly oppressed, robbed of their possessions, cast into prison, tortured and put to death on the merest suspicion of favouring Luther and his doctrines.
The Duke of Alva, an inhuman tyrant, was governor of the country, and he used to boast that he had himself ordered the execution of nearly nineteen thousand people.
This went on until it could be endured no longer, and the country rose in rebellion, under the leadership of William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, against the might of Spain. At this rising the rapacious cruelty of the popish soldiers found full play; whole towns were put to the sword, and blood flowed everywhere.
Meanwhile the city of Rotterdam had seemed to escape the worst of these horrors, but early one autumn morning the inhabitants were startled from their slumber by the news that the Spanish fleet had entered the river Maas and was riding at anchor before the town.
Great was their dismay, for they knew that the Spaniard’s thirst for blood was almost insatiable; but they determined to resist the invader, and sell their lives and homes dearly. In the midst of this storm of grief and consternation the burgomaster received a letter from the Spanish admiral, Count de Bossu, stating that he had no wish to harm them, and desiring to be merely permitted to march his men through their town, so as to join the main body of the army.
With the guns of the Spanish ships frowning upon them, they judged it better to submit to his proposals, and went to their homes calmed and satisfied. Alas for them, they little realised how treacherous was their foe!
There was, however, in the city a wealthy burgher who had absolutely no faith in the promises of the Spanish admiral, and as he thought of the terrible slaughter that would probably follow the admittance of the Spaniards, he determined if possible to save some of the people.
His home was a large mansion at the corner of the public square; this he determined to turn into a house of refuge. His wife entered into his project, and the furniture was all taken out and thrown into a back yard, then the windows were smashed and the shutters closed, so as to give the house a wrecked and deserted appearance.
Meanwhile the Spaniards had entered the city, the admiral gave the signal for a general slaughter by cutting down the gateman with his own sword; thousands were massacred, and an agonising cry of despair rang forth from the blood-stained streets.
By this time the house of the wealthy burgher was filled from attic to cellar. Fully a thousand people, it is said, were crowded within its walls. Then the master of the house took a kid which had been kept in readiness, and, killing it just inside the door, allowed the blood to stream across the threshold and into the streets beyond.
Just then the clash of steel, and shrieks of the stricken people, told that the Spaniards had reached the square. They looked upon the house, and seeing the blood upon the steps leading to it, they passed it by. That blood seemed to say, “The sword has already fallen here; there has been slaughter enough pass elsewhere.”
Thus were the refugees in the house with the blood-stained threshold saved from the carnage which was everywhere rampant in the city.
We do not liken the judgment of God to the treachery and rapacity of the Spaniards. Judgment is His strange work, and if He unsheathes His sword it is in perfect righteousness; but men had sinned, and in so doing had put God in the place of the Judge, and though his heart is full of tender pity, His wrath must fall upon sin. Yet God has found a way of escape for guilty sinners, He has provided a place of shelter; and the house of the wealthy citizen of Rotterdam shall stand as an illustration of this. It was the fact of blood having been shed that protected those terror-filled people; apart from that, they would have shared the fate of their fellow-citizens. And the only way to escape the righteous judgment of God is to be sheltered by the blood that has been shed — even the precious blood of Jesus. His death has satisfied the claims of justice, and if you make His blood your plea, you are safe for evermore.
You will remember that when the avenging angel passed through the land of Egypt, this was the God-ordained way of safety.
Not the good deeds of the people of Israel, not the fact that their fathers knew God and had taught them of Him; no, they had to abide within the blood-sprinkled houses until the judgment had passed by.
My reader, the judgment is assuredly coming. Oh, fly to the shelter of the precious blood of Christ, shed for sinners like you and me.
That corner house still stands in Rotterdam; over its portal is inscribed, “The house of a thousand terrors.” If I had the power to give it another title it should be named “The house of the blood-stained threshold,” and it should be a monument to the fact that the way of safety from judgment is through blood-shedding, and that God has said “When I see the blood, I will pass over you.” (Exodus 12:13.)
“Without shedding of blood is no remission.” (Hebrews 9:22.)
“The blood of Jesus Christ … cleanses from all sin.” (1 John 1:7.)
Down to Earth But Heavenly Minded 
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