<TITLE>16. Par 52-55</TITLE>L-52 Oh, what a wonderful time. Oh, how we used to sing that old song:
 It'll be a wonderful time for you,
 A wonderful time for me;
 If we'll prepare to meet Jesus our king,
 What a wonderful time it will be.
Don't you love that worshipping in the Spirit? Yes sir. Just feeds you through your soul. Hallelujah, hallelujah. So glad to see Billy feeling that way. I'm--I'm... Bless his heart.
Let's sing this song now:
 There Is A Fountain filled with blood,
 Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
 Where sinners plunged beneath that flood,
 Lose all their guilty stains.
All of us together now. Help us, Brother Graham.
 There is a fountain filled with blood,
 Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
 And sinners plunged beneath that flood,
 Lose all their guilty stains.
 Lose all their guilty stains,
 Lose all their guilty stains;
 Then sinners plunged beneath that flood...?...

L-53 You know, I never think of that song 'less I think of a story that was told me one time. It was out on the reservations in Arizona. There was a Tim Coy. He was a guide to the Indians, and kind of a missionary boy. And he'd been turned around on the desert, and he couldn't find his way out. And he was riding his horse; and give out of water. He'd been lost for two or three days in there. There just all hopes that he'd ever come out, was gone. He said... He was testifying in a meeting.
And he said, "That it looked awful dark for him. And he run upon a deer trail out in the desert." And said, "The horse that he was riding," said, "was just about gone. She was..." I believe he said her name was Bess. And said, "He--he--he would--felt so sorry for her. He'd been walking. They had couple of sand storms, and the nostrils all caked up with sand."

L-54 And that's the reason they wear those neckerchiefs. When the sand storm's on, you put it up over your face. And I've rode a many a time, and my breath being wet would just--just make a solid sand cake around your face like that. Riding, that dust, cattle, you know, and things ahead of you. And the sand storms blow it like that.
He said, "He thought it was just about the end of the road for him. He was staggered himself, and his horse..." He could... You can do without water longer than the horse can. So he said, "He was staggering along, and he hit this deer trail." And said, "He felt so good, he started down the deer trail, and he got--got on her, and he started to ride." And he said, "He rode down the trail a little piece." Said, "Oh, looked like it'd been hundreds of deer going down that trail. And he thought, 'Well, that deer trail leads to water, so I'll find water.'" And said, "He started with it... riding his horse." And said, "He come to a place where three or four branched off to one side." And said, "The horse wanted to take that trail." He said, "Oh, no, Bess. You can't take that trail. Grabbed her by the bit and pulled her around this a way." Said, "Go this trail; it's marked out better. This is where all the deer went to drink." And said, "The horse turned around, and just kept nickering, nickering." And said, "He was so excited, he had wheel spurs, and he just cut the horse till she just stand there bleeding." And said, "She wouldn't go. She wanted to take this little trail."

L-55 You see, that's the way with a lot of people. They like to take the trail of television, the movie stars, take the trail of popularity to be some big person. See? They don't watch that little trail.
 There's a highway that leads to heaven,
 Dim there a trail, so they say;
 But the broad one that leads to destruction,
 Is posted and blazed all the way.
 They say there will be a great roundup,
 When cowboys, like doggies, will stand;
 They'll be marked by the riders of judgment,
 That's posted and knows every brand.
 (You've heard the song.)
 So I guess I'd be a stray yearling,
 Just a man that's condemned and to die;
 Would be cut in the bunch with the rustics,
 When the boss of them riders go by.


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