When I walked into the little church that morning there was a whisper of excitement, a slight sob here and there, for one of two were crying, then a hush of anticipation that was intense. After a few words about what had taken place Mr. Berg asked me to speak. My heart was full to overflowing, for I was to have the opportunity of talking about Jesus and His power; of telling of His wonderful compassion, His love and willingness to answer prayer. An intense love was in my heart for these whom He had died for; a great longing that they might know Him in all His fullness, as I had found Him. I, who had stood so many years ago before the public without thought of Him and His glory, now had but one desire, and that was that they “might know Him and the power of His resurrection—and that all things might be done only for His glory” (Philippians 3:10). “That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable unto His death.”) I saw them as hungry sheep, whom He alone could satisfy. I loved them with such a love as I had never felt for humanity before. Some there knew Him as we had found Him; others did not, and for these I would gladly have laid down my life that they might find Him. The sufferings which I had passed had given me, in a measure at least, a “Calvary heart.”

My heart was too full to say much that first time I was given the opportunity of testifying for Him and of telling of the wonderful thing that He had done for me, so I opened my Bible and read of that woman of days of old who also had suffered many things, and then touching Him, had been made whole. “And, behold, a woman, which was diseased with an issue of blood twelve years, came behind Him, and touched the hem of His garment; For she said within herself, If I may but touch His garment, I shall be whole. But Jesus turned Him about, and when He saw her, He said, daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole. And the woman was made whole from that hour” (Matthew 9:20–22). As I stood there I seemed to see her, closely related to my own life, suffering, sorrowing, pressing through the crowd, and then wearily falling to her knees, reaching towards Him as He passed. I knew exactly how she felt—unworthy that He should turn and touch her. I know why she could not ask Him for healing or cry aloud to Him as others did; she would just wait there until He came a little closer, then she would reach out and gently touch “the hem of His garment.” And I said aloud: “Oh, woman of days gone by, I know; I understand; for I, too, have touched “the hem of His garment.”