The Letter

     I must tell you about George Pease.  I wrote a letter to him once.  And he didn’t read it the way I wrote it.  I’ve always wondered if an angel altered it.

     It happened this way.  I had written a song called “Jesus, take my hand,” One evening while I was praying, I felt very definitely impressed that I should have it printed and that I should ask an aunt of mine for the money needed.  This seemed very strange, for I knew my aunt had no money to spare.  I asked her anyway—the impression had been so strong—and she said, “Ask George Pease, I think he would help you.”

     George Pease, an old family friend was living in a hotel in downtown Portland.  When I called the hotel, I learned he was in Seattle, and I wrote him there.

     Now I knew that I would need about fifty dollars to have plates made of the song and have it printed.  But this was at a time when I was not working.  It was also a time when fifty dollars was a huge amount of money.  I simply could not bring myself to ask for fifty dollars, so I asked for twenty-five and prayed that he would send fifty.

     He wrote back immediately and enclosed a check for fifty dollars.  He said, “You asked for forty-five and for the extra five you can send me whatever copies you think I can understand and appreciate.”

     I asked for forty-five?  My handwriting is not the best, but this figure was clearly written out and there was no possible way “twenty-five could look like ”forty-five.”

     Did an angel change it?  I don’t know.

M. L. Lloyd