“When springtime comes, that little seed of life will work its way around that log and stick its little head up and praise God. You can’t hide real life, not over a bushel. Real life shows itself. It can’t kill it. It’ll live again just as sure as anything. The frost can bite the little flower, and it bow its head. They have a funeral procession. The fall rains cry and bury the little thing. It rots; the bulb goes out; the petals are gone; the seed gone, bursted open; the pulp’s run out; but somewhere in there is a little germ of life that no science can find. Just let the sun go to shine and warm, the sunrise, it’ll live again.”

Rev. William Marrion Branham