I love a picture of the cross or a crucifix.  I am debtor both to the Jew and the Greek.  I do not feel the dislike to the Catholic church that some Protestants do.  I believe there are as many honest priests as there are other ministers.  God’s church is invisible to the world, for it is set up in the hearts of the children of men.  I have been greatly edified by conversing with Catholic priests.  When I lived in Texas my spiritual condition was such that I wanted some explanation.  I went to see Father Hennesy, of Houston, I explained to him my strange leadings, he said a wise and good thing, told me to “read the scriptures and pray and God would lead me right.”

I was at church in Medicine Lodge one night, during a protracted meeting held by Bro.  Parker and Hodges.  Two sisters came to me and complained that I made so much noise, said they could not enjoy the service.  I said:  “To please you I will try to keep quiet, but remember it is my God and your God I am praising.  I would rejoice to hear you praise Him.”  Next night something was said that was good to me.  I said:  “Praise God!” caught myself when I saw one of the sisters near, and from that time I felt little impulse and at last none.  I went to every meeting but lost my liberty and became so bound, I could not testify or pray.  I was very miserable, would weep from a desolation of spirit.  This continued for three weeks.  The meeting was still going on.  My spiritual darkness became so great, I went up one afternoon to the altar.  I rose and told of how I had “lost my liberty and peace by withholding praise to God by trying to please two sisters.”  While I was confessing, the spirit fell in great power and I acted like I was beside myself, was almost wild with delight.  I seemed to fly home and back in the evening.  One in this state appears crazy to the world, even disgusting.  No one sees a reason for this unnatural overflow of feeling.  At the beginning of the service, opportunity was given for testimony.  I rose eager to tell of my returned joy; told of praying for, and getting what I prayed for, then losing it, by compromise; closed by saying:  “That never again would I refuse to do the will of God even if it offended all and made me appear a fool.”  My testimony seemed to be fanatical, for my manner indicated one greatly moved.  When I took my seat a “still small voice” said.  “You must sing a song.”  Bro.  Osburn was sitting near.  He had the song book “Finest of the Wheat,” in his hands.  I took it then handed it back.  I felt like one in a dreadful dilemma—­all joy had given place to fear.  Bro.  Osburn again handed me the book.  I felt then I must go through this trying ordeal.  I took the book, walked up to the front, all were standing, the church crowded and Bro.  Parker gave out the number of the hymn “40”.  “No,” I said, “We will sing No. 3.”  This song was, “I know Not Why This Wondrous Grace To Me He Hath Made Known.”  Bro.  Parker gave out the number again.  I said, “No,”