<TITLE>09. Par 35-39</TITLE>L-35 I used to hunt up in the north woods, with a friend of mine, Burt Caul. I met him a few days ago, and shook his hand, and had dinner with him, while I was in New England, in those country up there, in the--a healing revival. And one day...
I would go up there to hunt, each fall, and one day going up, I was talking to Burt. And he was one of the best hunters I ever seen. I... You never had to worry about him; you would know where he was at. You didn't have to hunt him up; he knowed where he was at in the woods. He was a good hunter, but the meanest man I ever knowed. He was just cruel as he could be. He loved to shoot little fawns, just to make me feel bad.

L-36 Now, that's all right to shoot a fawn, you Texas boys, here, you hunters. If the law says you can have a fawn, that's all right. No matter the age of the deer. Abraham killed a calf, and God eat it. That's right. So there's no harm in killing them. That's exactly right. But just to be a murderer, that's different.
Did that stump you? He did do it. He eat the calf, drink the milk of the cow, and eat some corn cakes. It's exactly right. Eat the butter, that the milk was churned from, He certainly did. And God did it, and vanished right before Abraham.
You say, "That was an Angel." Abraham said it was God, Elohim. That's right. Was God. Oh, I'm so glad, that He holds it in His hand. How great Thou art.

L-37 Someone said to me, "You believe, Brother Branham, that was God?"
I said, "Sure, It was God." That... Our great Creator? He just... We're all made out of sixteen elements. He just reached down and got some petroleum, cosmic light, and--and atoms, and [Brother Branham makes a blowing sound--Ed.] blowed a little body, stepped into it, and put His Angels in there, and walked to Abraham. Certainly. Eat the meat, and was hungry, and vanished out of his sight. That same God knows where I'll be buried. He knows where you'll be.

L-38 Not long ago, I was combing these two or three hairs, I got left. My wife setting back there, she said, "Billy, you're just about baldheaded."
I said, "But I haven't lost a one of them."
She said, "Where are they at? Tell me."
I said, "Where was they, before I got them? They're there waiting for me; someday I'll go to them." They was. Every hair of your head's numbered, and not one of them can be lost. These hands that used to be a little boy, these shoulders that's stooping under preaching the Gospel, someday will spring back again to the picture made in His image, stand in His likeness, washed in His Blood, redeemed by His grace, I shall stand (Yes, indeed.), and no fear to death. There He come.

L-39 And one day, I went to Burt, and he'd made him a little old whistle. And he'd make that little whistle go like a little baby fawn crying. I said, "Burt, you're not going to use that?"
He said, "Oh, Billy, get next to yourself. You're just a chicken-hearted preacher. That's the way with all of you." Said, "You're a good hunter, but you're too chicken-hearted."
I said, "Burt, I'm a hunter, but not a killer. I don't like to see you do that." I said, "Don't use that, Burt."
He said, "Aw, go on."
We started hunting that morning, about six inches of snow, good tracking weather, as any hunter knows. And we hunted--I was a little late in the season, 'fore I got there. I'd been in the meetings quite a bit, and we'd hunted all morning and found nothing, because them white-tail deer, up there, they really know how to hide. And they got away, under the daytime, especially.


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