<TITLE>02. Par 6-9</TITLE>L-6 I preached to big crowds and little crowds. It makes no difference what it is. I just held a revival in a church that held twenty. So it was pitiful, down in zero weather and they was standing outside. But I don't need money; we just have to pay the expenses, that's all you're ask to do. I--I wish that I could pay them myself; I wouldn't ask for that.
And I--I never took an offering in my life. I remember one time, that I was--got in a hard place. How many knows what that means?
My wife's setting here this afternoon; she usually gets a--kinda a little shy. She looked at me when I say this, but I just come in from--I was working. I pastored a--the tabernacle at Jeffersonville for seventeen years and never had one cent of a salary. Besides I put what money I could spare in the offerings, and always paid my tithes, and so forth.

L-7 But I come in, and we just didn't have enough money to make the thing go. And I said to her; I said, "You know what, honey? I'm going to take up an offering tonight."
She said, "I want to be sure to go over and see you do that." And so, she set back. Now, the people would give it. It was the time of the war and so forth, and or--just before the war. And so she--she knew that they would give it. They'd--they'd allowance their children at the table to help me. But I--I--I realized that, and I never want to take advantage of anything like that.
So I was young, working; I was where I could work, and I had a patrol job, walking thirty some odd miles a day through the wilderness and so forth, very hard, making forty-five cents an hour.

L-8 But then I--I went over to take up the offering, and I never will forget it, an old friend of mine, I said, "Friends, I'm a little in need tonight." I said, "I need about five dollars." I said, "I got a bill that's coming due; I just can't make it." I said, "I got other things." I said--we didn't have a collection plate in the church. I said, "If somebody will get my hat there, we'll just take up a offering." Got a nickel or something together... It was a audience like the size on this floor, my church.
And I said... Mr. Wisehart went over to get my hat, and I looked and a little old woman, the sweetest little old thing, one of the old fashion mothers that used to wear these little old, spotted aprons, and had the pocket on the inside, you know, of the apron. Did you ever see one of those?

L-9 My old grandmother, she used to wear one of those, and she smoked a cane pipe. She didn't want the man to see her smoking, so she carried her tobacco in that pocket, and she'd see some of the men coming; she'd just stick her hand under that apron, and hold her thumb on that pipe, and talk to them. And after they left, she'd come across the floor with that old cane pipe.
I remember before she died; she was a hundred and ten years old. She remembered the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Never saw but one car in her life; I brought that down there, way back in the mountain country. Never seen a train in all of her life. But I held her in my arms and prayed for her. She probably weighed fifty pounds, just dried up. And so--she was the sweetest little old thing. She'd got saved, and she put her arms around my neck, and the last thing she said, "God bless your little heart, now and forever more." And she went to be with the Lord. And--that was my father's mother.


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