<TITLE>11. Par 40-43</TITLE>L-40 In India, how I would see those little mammies, standing out there on the street with their little belly all swelled out with their babies, and saying, "Feed my baby. Even if I die, let the baby eat." Nothing to eat.
I had about fifteen hundred dollars I'd collected around. I wasn't putting it in those societies--a guy with a big cigar in his mouth, and a five hundred dollar ring. The money that I give, I take it and do it myself. Then I know I, when I answer to God it's the truth.
And I had about fifteen hundred dollars, and I had changed it and got some Rupees. And I went out on the street to give it to the poor people who needed it. And they had to get a militia to get me in. And Billy and I stood at the window, and them poor mothers and kids dying; they'd die like cordwood, and take them out and put them in a salamander and burn them up. No John 14, don't know who they are. Just dump them in and cremate them. That's all. They die on the streets.

L-41 We would drop those down, and them poor lepers with no arms, crying, and run down the street to get a little bit of curry to eat--and so stinking. They didn't have arms; some of them had to lick on the street where they worshipped cattle and things, and dirty and filthy.
And do you mean, that a just God can stand and let us do the way we're doing, and get by with it? God would have to raise up Sodom and Gomorrah and apologize for burning them up, if this nation don't receive judgment. We're at the end road, friends. All our atomic bombs and everything ain't going to help one thing. There's only one place of safety. That's in Christ. We're at the end. God's showed His great signs. He's been merciful to us, and we don't recognize it. Oh, that God would open our eyes.

L-42 Down in South, we had an old colored preacher down there that was a fine old fellow. And there was an old boy that he hunted with. His name was Gabriel, but we called him Gabe for short--down in Louisiana. And he was a good boy, but we couldn't get him straightened out with the Lord. The pastor tried; his mo--his wife and his mother prayed for him. But old Gabe just wouldn't stay lined up. So he liked to hunt, and the pastor liked to hunt too.  And one day they went hunting. And old Gabe couldn't hit the side of a barn, but that day he'd shot so much game, they had rabbits and birds hanging all over him. On the road back that evening, as he was waddling along behind the pastor, had his gun, on his shoulder, he was looking at all the birds, and the rabbits and the things that he'd got. And coming around an old familiar path, he watched the sun going down. And he tapped the pastor on the shoulder, and the pastor turned around, said, "Did you touch me, Gabe"?
He said, "Yes, parson, I touched you."
And he said, "Gabe, you're crying." Said, "What's the matter?"

L-43 He said, "Parson, you see that sun going down yonder?"
Said, "Yes, Gabe. What's so unusual about that? You've noticed the sunset all these years. You were born and raised in this country.
He said, "But, parson, I realize that my sun's a setting too." And he said, "Parson, tomorrow is Sunday, and you going to find me right down at the mourner's bench in the morning. Then I's goin' to get me a seat back there with my wife, and I'm going to be a faithful member of your church until God calls me from this world."
And the pastor said, "Well, Gabe, you know I appreciate that, and God only knows how I appreciate that." He said, "But, Gabe, your wife has prayed faithfully; your old mother before she went away, she prayed faithfully; your daddy did the same. I've hunted with you. I've been at your house for dinner. I've prayed with you. But why the sudden change? What happened all at once"?
He said, "Parson, just looky here at the game I got." He said, "You know, Parson, I--I'm not no good shot." He said, "I--I couldn't hit nothin." But said, "You know the Lord must have loved me or he wouldn't have give it to me."


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