"For some 32 years I have been absent from the northern Plains area which I call 'My Country.' I have had periods of great loneliness for it. I can fancy still the shouts and sounds of gunfire of riders, exuberant horsemen, rushing through the street on Saturday nights on 'Silk Stocking Avenue' in Fairview, Montana, firing into the air. I can feel the pressure of a quick crush with my car into the huge snow drifts in the wake of blizzard seasons; the warm hospitality of the Plains people. I remember the joyful shouts of little children in Vacation Bible Schools; the young lad who joyfully received Christ, then said just before he succumbed from tubercular meningitis, 'I go to dwell in the house of the Lord forever.' And I remember the exhausting nights after full days of preaching five or six times a Lord's Day, the many miles traversed; but all, all forgotten in the joy of seeing souls saved at points in a far flung parish. However, it is all ending in gladness!"
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