During the service on Saturday, March 26th, I was told of a woman brought on a stretcher in such agony that they could not bring her into the hall and I was begged to attend her outside. On going down the steps I saw over the banister such a revolting spectacle I was afraid even to look at her. The lower part of her face was covered by a massive black scab, something like a man’s big moustache, that at first I thought was some contrivance put there by the doctors. Oh, she was ghastly blue and horrible, but I went to her and asked: “Do you love Jesus?” She moved her head in assent; she had not been able to speak for two and a half years. Then I asked: “Do you think he will heal you?” Again she nodded. While I was praying and laying hands on her she exclaimed, “I can speak. I can talk now, thank the Lord, and I can walk. Let me get off this and try,” and she did so, up and down the passage. You know, her doctor had been angry at the idea of her coming and said it might be her death and it was cruel to bring her; but, praise the Lord, only an hour afterwards the black scab fell off and the next day another from her eye, and the day after one from her arm. On the Saturday morning following she was so well she walked to the Evenwood church and gave this testimony: “See, my new flesh is clean and the skin over it like that of a little child. Glory to God.
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